Devoted to the Wounded and Dying
by mysterious victoria
Summary: Lieutenant Jenkins, Lillian R. Female. Army Nurses Corps. 57th STA Hospital; May-November '44. 94th EVAC Hospital; November '44-January '45. 101st Airborne, 506 PIR, E company; February '45-. She didn't know what would become of her with the men of Easy.
1. Little Problems

Hello :)

This is not based off of the actual men that are mentioned this fiction, only concerning the actors in the miniseries. No disrespect or dishonor is intended in this piece. All rights go to their respective owners.

And, a few sincere and huge "thank you"s to …

My beta, Scratchy Wilson, who with constructive criticism, meticulous and thorough editing and research, and the patience of God to walk through my mind, has helped me to shape and perfect my plot to its final product.

The men of E company. Your sacrifice and service will always be remembered and respected to all who know your story.

Finally, my grandfather who served in the 82nd Airborne.

Let the show begin.

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: Little Problems<strong>

_February 9, 1945_

_France_

Lillian walked into what the men told her was E company CP. Apparently, the man she had to find would more than likely be found there. She couldn't believe she'd report to him though. Lillian knew that he had joined the Army before Pearl Harbor, but she never thought he would fly up the ranks to captain, or even be in the paratroopers. Then again, she never thought she'd travel to two other continents before she turned twenty-five. There was a pale, exhausted, sickly man lying on a couch, a blanket covering him. Another was sitting in a chair, and there was another, smoking a cigarette, sorting through boxes. The final one was a replacement. She could tell he was new, despite the fact that she was new here as well, because his face was clean and clear. He didn't even look old enough to shave, and he had that serious aura about him, trying to make sure he was doing everything according to protocol. She knew, at this point, she had been in the war far longer than she ever expected to or assumed she would be. As she walked through the doorway, she removed her helmet and carried it under the crook of her free arm, letting her low ponytail fall down.

"Hello, this is E company CP, correct?"

"Oh Jesus, more—" the one smoking commented angrily, his back to her. But when he turned around and saw who it was, he began to stammer, wide-eyed, "Oh, holy sh—mackerel. Sir, I mean, uh, ma'am—"

He probably wasn't sure he was seeing what was in front of him. She couldn't blame him. Almost every man she came into contact had a similar reaction. The others were as equally surprised to see an American woman and in uniform. However, upon seeing her rank, they were all getting up to salute her.

"Lieutenant Jenkins. As you were," she greeted.

"Is there something we can do for you, Lieutenant?" the one on the couch asked, slowly pushing the blanket away to get up.

"Lay back down, please. You look awful," Lillian said to him, going over to him and gently pulling the blanket over his body. "You really should be in a bed if you have any." He was back in his original position as Lillian continued to make him comfortable, giving him a pillow and adjusting his blanket.

"I'm trying to be useful."

"Trying to be useful at this point is to rest and get better. You want to go back to the front line anytime soon? You need to recuperate. Especially since you have pneumonia, you don't want the other men catching it," Lillian said, standing straighter.

"She's good, Lip," the one with the cigarette commented with a sly smile. Of course, she knew the underlying meaning of that statement, but she chose to ignore it.

"I should be able to tell by now, don't you think?" Lillian asked the man with the cigarette, turning so he could clearly see the Red Cross on her arm as she turned back to the solider named Lip, placing her duffle bag and medical bag on the floor near her. The one sitting down in a chair had leaned forward in shock. He had seen field nurses at the hospitals, but he didn't expect them this close to fighting. "Are you getting treatment?"

"Company medic's given him medicine already. Lip just needs to actually rest and not tell everyone he's fine when he isn't." Lip sighed a bit and massaged his forehead quickly before covering himself back up with the blanket.

"Luz, can you do me a favor and get some coffee? Would you like some coffee, ma'am? Sir?" Lip asked. The man named Luz disappeared to go make some coffee.

"No thank you," the replacement replied, shaking his head.

"No, thank you though. And nurse," Lillian explained. "I only use my rank when I have to … Sergeant Lipton?" Lipton gave a short nod, looking at uniform.

"Alright Nurse Jenkins." Lillian gave a small smile before she turned to the other men.

"Private Webster. It's nice to meet you," Webster greeted, nodding his head with a shy, but movie star-like smile.

"Lieutenant Jones," the young yet stringent faced paratrooper replied.

"Sir," Lillian greeted with a nod.

"Here's your coffee Lip."

"Thanks Luz,"

"Who are you supposed to report to, Nurse Jenkins?" Webster asked.

"Captain Winters. Some of the men told me he'd be around here if not at the battalion CP," Lillian explained, retrieving folded papers from her pocket. Jones suddenly stood at attention, and Lillian did the same, however not as noticeably at the ranking officer who came into the room.

"Captain Speirs, sir. This is Lieutenant Jones—"

"Lipton, for Christ's sake, will you go in the back and sack out? There's some beds with fresh sheets," the officer named Speirs replied angrily to Lipton. He took a quick glance at Lillian, sizing her up and moved to put the item he had in his hands down.

"I will, sir. I'm just trying to make myself useful, sir," Lipton replied. Lillian gave Lipton a look, and he responded with a sigh and nod, knowing he should go in the back.

"Listen up," a new voice came in. Lillian's stomach did a flip, and her body tensed up. She knew that voice, and she knew the man to whom it belonged—Captain Richard Winters. Soon enough, the tall, built redhead came into the room, taking off his helmet. "Regiment wants a patrol for prisoners."

"This one comes straight from Colonel Sink, so it's not my idea," the captain accompanying Winters explained. Lillian let a small and quick smile crack her set face, remembering her first encounter with the colonel.

"Since the river is the main line of resistance, we're gonna have to cross it to get to them."

"What do we need to do?" Speirs asked.

"There's a three story building on the enemy side, up the embankment. We know it's occupied. You can have fifteen men, and think very hard about who you want to lead the patrol. You'll need a lead scout, a translator, and I've got the entire battalion on covering fire," Winters explained.

"When?"

"Tonight. Zero one hundred."

"Yes sir," Speirs replied.

"Speirs, I want this to be as fool-proof and as safe as possible," Winters said, seriously.

"Yeah, don't take any chances on this one. We're too far a long for that," the second captain agreed. Winters and Speirs began to talk to each other, and the captain walked over to Jones with a questioning look. "Who are you?"

"Lieutenant Jones, sir."

"Right, our West Pointer," the captain said with a small hint of a smile.

"Yes, sir."

"When did you graduate?"

"June six, sir."

"June six? Of last year?" the captain questioned, surprised.

"D-Day, yes sir," Lieutenant Jones answered. The captain smiled and chuckled, but it didn't seem to be humorous.

_"What a day," _Lillian thought.

"Alright, don't get hurt." He was about to walk out when Lillian caught his attention. He did a double-take and walked over to her. He hadn't seen the silent woman standing by the piano. "And who are you?"

"Lieutenant Jenkins, sir. I was told by Colonel Sink to report to Captain Winters who would place me in the appropriate company best suiting the battalion," Lillian elaborated quickly. By then, Winters had stopped talking with Speirs and was walking over, observing the lieutenant. His first thought was that she had become skinnier. His second thought asked why she was even here, standing in front of him, in a uniform, in the first place. The captain nodded, amazement etched on his face. He turned to Winters.

"Sir, permission to request her in Easy?" Winters turned to Speirs with a raised eyebrow. He was surprised at the request, especially coming from Speirs. "If there are to be any complications, we need any medical hand possible," Speirs explained, reasonably.

"Alright. Lieutenant Jenkins, you're assigned to Easy. Follow me," Winters said as Lillian grabbed her duffle bag and medical bag and hefted them onto her shoulder.

"Sir, permission to go on the patrol, sir?" Jones asked Winters. Winters took one, long look at him before turning to Speirs.

"Speirs, I'll talk to you in an hour?" Speirs nodded.

"Yes, sir."

Lillian followed Winters and the captain out of Easy's CP and into his makeshift office at battalion CP. The men that had passed the trio had to look behind them or stare long and hard. They couldn't believe a woman, was in a uniform, and around here. It astounded and puzzled them, and it increased their curiosity. Thankfully, Winters' office was behind a door; closed off from the eyes and mumblings. Lillian stood at attention as Winters started organizing and moving papers on his desk. The dark-haired captain was leaning against the wall and took in Lillian.

"You can sit down, you know. Or at least put your duffle bag down—" the captain suggested.

"Thank you captain, but I'm accustomed to being on my feet," Lillian said, nodding her head. The captain gave a shrug and smiled.

"Alright, suit yourself. Captain Nixon, by the way," Nixon greeted, extending his hand. Lillian shook his hand as Winters turned to them.

"So, Lieutenant Jenkins, Colonel Sink referred you to me?" Winters asked, sitting on the edge of the desk, arms folded over his chest.

"Yes, sir," Lillian replied, handing folded pieces of paper to him. He began to read it over when Lillian added, "I'm sorry if my arrival is inconvenient for you, sir—" Winters looked up quickly and shook his head.

"Oh, no. No, no it's not inconvenient. It's rather … convenient, actually." Winters and Lillian looked at each other, for the first time, straight into each other's eyes. Nixon looked back-and-forth quickly between the two, a smug smirk covering his face. Winters cleared his throat awkwardly as he turned back to the paper, and Lillian looked away from him, but still keeping her head high.

Nixon watched both of them closely; he noticed Winters' body language, every word, and his facial expressions and Lillian's, so much so that he could make it a science. He saw what had just happened between them. Now, Nixon had, in vain, tried to get his friend to be social and talk to women, but Winters had never acted like this with other women before. Therefore, Nixon came to two conclusions. Winters was either just that shy and just bad with women, or they had met before. And there was still something more underneath, more than what their exteriors were allowing him to see. Nixon was sincerely hoping that Winters was not that antisocial and assumed the second. A knock came at the door.

"Enter," Winters called, not looking up from the paper. The door opened to a corporal; he saluted both officers.

"Sorry to disturb you sir, but the showers and winter gear along with PK-rations have arrived sir."

"Finally!" Nixon exclaimed.

"Good, let the men know," Winters said, nodding.

"Yes, sir. We also need Captain Nixon, sir," the corporal explained. Nixon raised his eyebrows and nodded.

"Excuse me. Duty calls," Nixon said, winking at Lillian before leaving the room. Winters watched his friend leave the room, and as Nixon shut the door, he mouthed, "Have fun" to him.

Winters was looking over what Lillian assumed to be her deployment history. "This is impressive. Algeria, Italy, and now France and wherever we're headed next," Winters commented, folding the papers back up and handing them to her.

"Thank you, sir."

"The patrol across the river is set for zero one hundred. We're trying to make this mission as safe as possible, but in case, I want you and Eugene Roe ready for any causality or injury. Roe is the medic for Easy. Report to him and get settled as best as you can. We don't know how long we're going to be here. And make sure you get some type of rest before zero one hundred."

"Yes, sir. What if any of the prisoners are injured?" Lillian asked. Winters thought about it, leaning back more into the desk, but only for a moment.

"If they're critical, yes. Otherwise, don't bother," Winters replied.

"Yes, sir."

"Dismissed. Aid station is down the street on the right after OP 2."

"Thank you, sir," Lillian saluted Winters sharply; Winters dismissed hers with his, and they both walked off in different directions. However, Lillian stopped at the door and sighed. She turned back around and walked to Winters. "Captain Winters, permission to speak sir?" Lillian requested. Winters looked behind him and nodded, seeing the concern in her face. "Sir, where were you last stationed?"

"Belgium … Bastogne," Winters answered, folding his arms back over his chest.

"Sir, even though the men are getting hot showers and winter gear, some of the men are in horrible condition, physically and mentally. I can see it. If some of those men are on the front line, sir, they shouldn't be. Not only are they a danger to themselves sir, but they're a danger to the patrol. Those that are physically sick need to be at the aid station, regardless of rank or what illness they have and those that are not mentally stable, and some are sir, need to be removed from the line," Lillian said. "You want this mission as fool-proof as possible? Make sure you know who you're putting out there." Winters just stared; he didn't respond or even move or change his expression that might give away his thoughts. "Sir."

"I couldn't agree more," Winters said, "but let me be just as frank. Despite your achievements, you have no idea what this group of men has gone through. Some of these men have been with the company since its formation, and they're a tight-knit bunch. You will feel like a replacement to them for a while because you're a new face. This is nothing like the hospitals in Italy or Algeria. It'll be a whole new atmosphere to you here. If it doesn't take you a while to adjust among these men, then you've changed even more from when I last saw you." Lillian chuckled, breaking her austere façade for a moment. Winters gave in to a small smile. "But hang tough, they'll like you."

"Thank you, sir. I'll keep that in mind," Lillian replied, nodding her head. "Have a good day sir," Lillian turned to leave.

"Lieutenant," Winters called to her.

"Sir?" Lillian asked, turning back to him, the door ajar.

"Watch yourself," Winters advised, seriously.

"Yes, sir," Lillian nodded. "Captain Nixon," they saluted each other as Nixon walked in and she walked out. Winters raised an eyebrow to his curious friend.

Lillian shut the door and walked out of the battalion CP. She could feel the men's suspicious eyes follow her as she left. Today, here, she was a replacement. Just her being a woman, walking around a battalion full of men who had probably been on the front line since D-Day, would have been enough to raise more than a few eyebrows. She sighed and looked around, trying to learn her new surroundings. OP 2 was down the road, so she began to walk. After the first block she heard a siren-like noise fill the air. Then the explosion came. Lillian ducked down behind one of the barricades, but then hearing another, even louder, she ran out of the way before the window shattered above her. Upon finding another barricade, she saw a man trying to move across the road before being hit only a block away. She didn't hesitate to start running the second her mind said go. She didn't care that the building next to her exploded. She kept running; a life depended on her. She found the man, buried under some rubble with chunks of smoldering potatoes around him. His eyes were wide, and blood had stained the corners of his mouth and down his neck.

"C'mon," she muttered, checking his pulse. There was none. She sighed, leaning her head down in some defeat before closing his eyes.

"What happened?" a man asked, immediately kneeling down and coming over to the body. She soon saw the Red Cross on his arm and shook her head.

"He's dead," she said. The medic checked the pulse and that confirmed what she had told him. Both stood up and looked at each other in the eyes. Lillian moved over and let the medic continue.

"Somebody's been hit!" Men from the whole battalion, Lillian figured, soon gathered around. Everyone was taken aback. Bill King, if she heard his name right, was the man who in first hour on the job, she couldn't save. She tried to reason with herself that the shelling had killed him, that he had been dead as soon as he hit the ground; it didn't alleviate her guilt. Speirs soon came to the front of the crowd, and he wasn't happy to see that. No one ever is happy to see that, but he looked as if he had let his men down. He looked at the surrounding buildings and quickly wiped his face, down the bridge of his nose.

"Back to your stations," he ordered. The men dispersed as he continued with his orders, "Christenson. Jackson." He pointed to the body. Before he turned to leave, Speirs told a redheaded soldier, "Get him outta here, will you?" One of the men that were standing near the front was in shock. Lillian recognized the look because she had seen it too often. The death of a friend can affect someone for the rest of his life. Death was inevitable, and war was merciless. The redheaded soldier then took the man and left. Private Webster and Lieutenant Jones came into view shortly after.

"Did you know him well?" Jones asked.

"No. Not really," Webster replied, shaking his head. Webster and Jones stayed a moment as the Sergeant was carried away. The medic stood up, and Webster, with a side glance at Lillian, left the scene with Jones.

"You look like you've seen that before," the medic with the smooth, sweet southern accent commented, eyeing the woman somewhat skeptically.

"Too often, for too long," Lillian agreed. "Lillian Jenkins." She walked over to him.

"Eugene Roe. Medic for Easy," Eugene Roe greeted as they began to walk. "Welcome to Haguenau. Sorry for the not-so pleasant greeting earlier—"

"You don't need to apologize Eugene," Lillian said, shaking her head. She knew very well why he was like that. Emotions aren't supposed to get in the way of the job, but when a new face is doing your job, you don't know if you can trust them or if they're doing it right. And losing men when you couldn't get there in time certainly didn't alleviate your burdens or stop your emotions either.

"So what's a nurse like yourself doing here?" Eugene asked curiously, trying to make conversation.

"I've been just assigned to Easy from the 94th EVAC Hospital." Lillian replied.

"Now they think we need more medical hands?" Eugene asked rhetorically, shaking his head in disgust. Neither of them talked again until they entered the aid station. Lillian was beginning to understand what Winters meant. It was going to take some time.


	2. Initial Prognosis

_Thanks to hodhod2011danger, maya, and LondElle for their reviews :)_

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><p><strong>Chapter 2: Initial Prognosis<strong>

"Who the hell was that woman anyway?" Liebgott asked Webster as they sat waiting for Winters to brief them on the patrol.

"Why was she in uniform?" Ramirez also put in.

"Is she a nurse?" Heffron asked.

"Yeah, a second lieutenant too," Webster explained.

"No way," McClung commented.

"You gotta be kidding me," Popeye said to himself, shaking his head.

"Bullshit," Liebgott told Webster. "A woman? Higher in rank than us?"

"Yeah. Apparently, she's been assigned to Easy," Webster elaborated.

"You know everything Webster. Fucking encyclopedia," Liebgott said, shaking his head.

"Great, just what we need," Heffron commented.

"Another fucking replacement," Cobb added.

"A dainty, whiny replacement," Ramirez added, making his voice higher and making the men chuckle.

"Eh, I don't think she's a replacement. Her clothes look new, but that doesn't mean she's a replacement," Webster argued, shaking his head.

"Her face was perfectly clear. She's a replacement," Liebgott retorted.

"Did you notice how tan her face was compared to ours?" Webster asked seriously, making Liebgott's face drop a little. "Did you?" Webster looked around at all of the men who had now grown silent at the question. "That meant she had to have been in some sunny, warm places. And I don't think any patriotic woman is going sunbathing too often back home." The men looked away from Webster and coughed or adjusted themselves uncomfortably before Jones called out,

"Ten hut!"

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><p>Lillian exhaled as she wrapped the coat around her. She wasn't used to the cold of a European winter. In Algeria and in Italy as well, she had grown almost fond of the dry heat. She was used to sounds of bombs, grenades, guns, and tanks; she was used to the sounds of war. Lillian would watch men she had bandaged and stitched up, and their friends lucky enough to not have been wounded yet, go out and risk their lives all over again. If her COs allowed it, and if she could find a moment and get away from the field hospital, she'd watch the maneuvers. It was probably because Oliver had been a paratrooper. She could vividly remember times at home where'd she just sit in her room, pondering on what type of danger he was throwing himself into on behalf of his country. There was just this constant worry welling up inside of her. It was like butterflies in her stomach, but it was not by any means excitable or enjoyable.<p>

"Do you plan on watching?" Roe asked, coming next to her. "Trust me, you won't want to see it."

"The hospitals were never very far from the front lines," Lillian explained. "I've seen and heard my share of war." Roe nodded, and a silence crept up on them.

"Where is the 94th?" Roe asked.

"Warm, mild, rainy Italy. Nothing like here," Lillian complained, shaking her head. Roe gave in to a small chuckle. That's when they heard a commotion of gunfire and grenades erupt across the river.

"Did you get yourself settled in?" Roe asked, purposely walking away and back in to the aid station.

"Yes," Lillian said, coming in and shutting the door behind her. "I forgot what it was like to have luxury of my own bed." This would be the first she had slept in a bed, by herself, since she had enlisted.

"Didn't you have beds for yourselves in the hospital?" Roe asked, turning to face her as they continued walking.

"Of course, but they were joint beds. Some lucky nurses had bunk beds, but normally we slept two to a bed," Lillian explained. "We never knew how many men we'd have coming in to get bandaged up, so we were being prepared."

"Well, alright, you need anything, come find me first, and you can get what you want out of here," Roe explained, pointing out their small supply room. "Bandages, morphine, anything and everything we have left, it's in here." Roe walked on as Lillian saw what medical supplies were left and began to wonder how Eugene Roe ran this almost by himself. Sure, there were other medics in the other companies, but still. All of a sudden, someone burst the door. Lillian whipped around.

"Doc! DOC!"

"What's happened?" Lillian asked, going up to him. The man looked hesitant at first, but then said,

"OP 2. Jackson, hit by a grenade." Lillian grabbed her musette bag on the table next to the cabinet and ran out the door, not waiting for Eugene.

"JENKINS!" She probably should've waited, but being hit by a grenade wasn't an easy thing to bounce back up from and get better. In her experiences, that wasn't the greatest possibility. Only one had survived from it. Her heart began to race. She had to get to him fast. She drove herself to run. Mortars were flying, machine guns were firing, and explosions were coming from everywhere. However, she really didn't notice mortar fire. She just ran. She wasn't thinking about that. It was just Jackson. Coming in OP 2's sight, she practically bolted in through the door towards the group of crowded, yelling men around a table and in the back of the room.

"Where the FUCK is the medic?"

"Move out of the way! Move!" The men parted like the Red Sea, and Lillian went over and immediately grabbed one of Jackson's hands. Webster moved out of the way and stared at her as she began talking. Most of the men quieted down at that point.

"Hey Jackson, hi. It's alright. You're okay. You're okay," Lillian said, purposely smiling at him and nodding her head. Jackson calmed down almost instantly and was smiling too. She squeezed his hand and smiled wider, and she used her other hand to move his face towards hers. One thing she learned about wounded men in a very panicky, loud setting: a woman's smiling face was a relief for them. A sense of normality and relaxation is what they gave when they smiled. That's what Marie had told her the very first day being in Italy. It worked almost every time. That's why she was a CO among other reasons. Lillian went through the process in her head: calm them down to the best of your abilities, then examine the damage. She was about to start when Roe came up to them.

"Hey Jackson, it's okay. Take it easy," Roe said to him, grabbing his neck, trying to get a view of the damage.

"Shh, shh. It's okay," Lillian reassured as a silence enclosed the room. Jackson was gagging slightly as Roe leaned close to Jackson's mouth. "Eugene, what do you need?"

"Light. I need some light. Gimme some light," Roe said, not taking his eyes off of Jackson. One of the guys whipped out a lighter and lit it over Jackson's head. "Jackson, look at the flame. Look at the flame." Roe opened his mouth up more and looked inside. "Okay, that's good." There was claustrophobic moment of complete silence despite the fact that Jackson whimpered slightly. "Alright, let's get him outta here." The two medics with a stretcher came in, and all four of them helped maneuver Jackson onto the stretcher.

"I don't wanna die! I don't wanna die!" Jackson kept crying out, panicking again. They were about halfway to the door when more explosions came and shook the house. They had to stop about three feet away from the door.

"Jackson! Jackson, you're gonna be okay. You gotta hang on," Roe kept saying amongst the cacophony of screaming, talking, and explosions and firing.

"It's going to be alright. You're going to be fine," Lillian said to him. Jackson gagged again before crying even louder.

"I don't wanna die!" Jackson cried, shaking his head and tears coming from his eye.

"You're not gonna die! I just need you to hang on!" Roe said to him. "JACKSON!"

Jackson went limp. Debris came down from the ceiling as Roe took off his helmet and sighed. Lillian sat down fully on the ground and looked down at the pale, dirty heavy hand in her own. Roe looked at Heffron. The look was enough for Heffron to conclude that Jackson was dead. He shook his head to the others. Martin sighed and moved through the men, slightly dragging his feet before he grabbed a blanket to place over Jackson's body. The men stood there, and the medics and nurse sat there, distraught over a loss that shouldn't have happened in Haguenau. They eventually moved Jackson's body, and the men went back to their respective OPs. Lillian and Roe went back to the aid station and about three hours after they had returned, a runner gave them a message from Colonel Sink, authorizing them to mandate "checkups" for the men.

"You should get some sleep. The first night is always rough," Roe told her. Lillian nodded and turned towards him.

"I will. I need to walk though," she explained.

"Walk?" Roe inquired.

"I suppose you can call that my coping mechanism. Some people hide inside themselves, cry, yell, smoke, drink, to numb themselves or make them forget for a while. I walk," Lillian explained. Roe nodded slowly. "When does Colonel Sink want the examinations to begin?"

"Fourteen hundred hours," Roe replied.

"I'll be back before the end of the hour," Lillian told him, nodding her head. She started walking down the steps, but Roe, against his better judgment, stopped her.

"Lillian," she turned back around, and Roe came up to her. "Speaking as a medic to another, you better tell me the next time you go and run out into a mortar attack," Roe told her, seriously. Lillian was taken aback, not by his words, but by the subdued anger in his eyes. "You just got here. If this is the way this war is gonna be until the end, we're gonna need you. So, please, be careful."

With that, Roe went back into the aid station as Lillian slowly began her walk down towards the river. She had discovered that space was the best for her. She figured it was the only thing keeping her sane some days; being able to walk and think a problem or day through. She walked to the low wall that stood about twenty feet away from the riverbank, clearly overlooking German-occupied territory. Lillian was pondering Roe's words when she heard a cry of pain from the other side of the river.

* * *

><p><em>Richard Winters, a lanky but slightly built twenty-year-old, fixed his white bow tie in the mirror and sighed. He thought he looked good enough, hopefully, that he wouldn't embarrass himself at his friend's party. Oliver Jenkins was throwing a birthday party for himself and had declared he wouldn't take any excuse from Dick for not being there. Of course Oliver, being his usual scheming self, was so adamant because he invited a girl that was interested in Dick. Oliver made it his personal mission to fix up his single friends. It wasn't that Dick didn't want a gal to go steady with, but being a freshman at Franklin and Marshall, Dick was busy with schoolwork and several different jobs during the week to pay off his tuition. Everyone in Lancaster knew Dick Winters to be an honest, hard-working young man.<em>

_About ten minutes later, Dick pulled up his tan, 1929 Chevrolet Coupe at the Jenkins household. There seemed to be an endless line to get in the front door. Dick chuckled; Oliver would be pleased with that. He was always the life of the party, and he had probably invited each and every person that would make his party of the talk of the Lancaster society pages. When Dick walked up to the front steps, he saw Oliver, neatly and sophisticatedly dressed in his black tux and shiny red bow tie. Dick chuckled; Oliver would be the one to buy and wear a red bow tie. His jet-black hair was gelled back nicely to reveal his aristocratic facial features. Upon seeing Dick, Oliver's smile grew even wider._

"_If it isn't Dick Winters! Come on in!" Oliver waved him in as Dick smiled._

"_Oliver, never ceasing to display your fashion sense," Dick greeted, shaking Oliver's hand._

"_I have to match with my leading lady Dick," Oliver answered before the two started to move into the ballroom. Tables were heavily decorated and were supplied with enough food to feed an entire army a three-course meal. The mass of people already there was black from the men's tuxedos mixed with the bright colors of the ladies' dresses. "My God Dick you must be a mind reader! That girl I wanted you to meet is wearing white! What are they teaching you there at Franklin and Marshall?"_

"_Why don't you tell me who she is Oliver?" Dick asked, knowing him too well, and also knowing he would avoid the question._

"_Eh, one hell of a doll," Oliver said, looking at his friend with a congenial smile that he used to get away with anything. Dick only stared at him. Oliver cleared his throat, and his smile dropped, uncomfortably. "Mariann's best friend, Carol Peters," Oliver replied, looking around the room. His smile came back very quickly. "There's my rose, Mariann."_

_Mariann Gilles and Oliver had been an item since freshman year of high school. She really was one of the most beautiful girls in their year—tall, and with a face like Katherine Hepburn, she was just about every man's dream. But Dick and Mariann weren't particularly friendly with each other. Dick didn't like that she tended to be a bit of a snob and flaunted her wealth. He couldn't honestly say what Oliver saw beyond her pretty face, but then again, he wasn't sure he wanted to know. He was certain Mariann couldn't stand him because, even though Oliver and Dick were the best of friends, he was a poor farm-boy in her eyes._

"_Dick, you certainly clean up nicely," Mariann chuckled._

"_Thank you, you look very beautiful," Dick said as Mariann smiled and slithered a perfectly manicured hand around Oliver's offered arm._

"_Carol, this is Richard Winters, but we all call him Dick. Dick, this is Carol Peters," Oliver said. She was dressed more conservatively than Mariann's revealing red gown. It was her platinum blonde hair pulled back, he thought that made her look like Olivia de Havilland._

"_Dick," Carol greeted, her voice as sweet as honey and a small smile on her face._

"_Carol. You look stunning." Carol smiled wider._

"_You know how to give compliments Dick," Carol laughed. All of a sudden, the hall became quiet as music began to play._

"_Ah, our festivities begin." Oliver said, pointing towards the front of the hall._

"_Gracious! Doesn't Lillian look just adorable?" Mariann cried with a smile, making Oliver chuckle. Dick looked towards the front as well, and his eyes instantly set on the young lady in a pure white dress. Although her back was towards the crowds of people, Dick Winters knew it had to be Oliver's little sister, Lillian Jenkins. Facing the crowd was a group of ten girls separated into two rows of five. One stepped out and began to sing as Lillian's hands began to move to the tempo. The song made Oliver chuckle heartily._

"_I knew there was a reason why she was listening to Belle Baker! Ha, smart girl. Wonderful song," Oliver exclaimed. As the all of the girls joined in the singing of "You Brought a New Kind of Love to Me", harmonizing on certain parts, which produced a very wonderful and rich song. Lillian's hand motions were graceful, precise, and consistent. Dick noticed a voice that stood out at certain parts. Of course, he knew all of the girls in the choir and that Lillian had conducted this choir since her freshman year of high school, but he hadn't heard this voice. Dick noticed it seeping in and out in the higher vocal range. It was suave and relaxing. However, the last line of the song, was when he finally figured out who it was. Lillian Jenkins instructed the girls to hold their notes as Lillian turned around. Her brother smiled as she sang the last line,_

"_For you brought a new kind of love—to— me." Compared to Belle Baker's version, Lillian went higher on the final notes, rather than going lower; it sounded so much sweeter and innocent. Dick smiled at the performance. Lillian smiled as the applause roared in the ballroom, Oliver being one of the loudest. The choir bowed, and Lillian bowed only slightly._

"_My sister, Lillian Jenkins! What a doll!" Oliver proclaimed, moving through the crowds and greeting his sister. He picked her up, spun her around and then kissed and hugged her._

_The night continued on with a grand dinner and plenty of dancing. Dick Winters had mingled in and out of the different crowds, but was secretly searching out Lillian. He wanted to congratulate her on a great performance, but also to talk with her. It had been a year and a half since he had last seen her; what a year and a half had done to her. Dick finally managed to find her, talking with a few friends. He took in Lillian's appearance before approaching her. She certainly had matured, and Dick knew if he kept looking, certain thoughts her brother would never forgive him for having would be swimming in his mind for the rest of the night and every time he looked at her. He gathered his courage instead and walked up to her._

"_You did a beautiful job Lillian," Dick said, smiling. Lillian looked behind her, and her eyes widened, a smile crossing her face._

"_Richard Winters!" She hugged him. "It's been so long."_

"Dick?" Winters didn't realize that Nixon was talking to him until he had turned around. Nixon was waiting for a response with raised eyebrows.

"You alright?" Nixon asked curiously.

"Yeah, sorry. Were you saying something?" Winters responded, seeming a little dazed.

"I asked you if you knew our feisty new Lieutenant," Nixon asked for the third time, but Winters, who had been reminiscing, didn't realize just how long he had been daydreaming. He looked back out over the river.

"Jenkins?"

"No, Jones," Nixon replied, sarcastically. "Of course Jenkins!"

"Oh, because Jones is very—"

"Dick!"

"Yes Nix, I know her," Winters nodded simply.

"Care to elaborate?" Nixon pressed.

"I graduated from Lancaster Boys High School with her brother," Winters explained, as Nixon came beside him. "The family has served in the armed forces. Father, grandfathers, uncles, even her brother, who's a friend of mine but not someone I ever saw as a paratrooper. He was in the Italian campaign from what I heard. I didn't expect her to get into this though."

"You hoped she wouldn't, you mean?" Nixon restated, purposely. Winters looked at him suspiciously.

"Well, of course not. She had a great future back home. She didn't need to get caught up with all of this," Winters answered, sounding rational and reasonable. "She's a talented singer and conductor."

"Conductor?" Nixon asked, confused.

"Of a choir," Winters explained, plainly and simply.

"That's the only reason though?" Nixon pressed once more. Winters looked back at Nixon and stared. "Come on, you think I can't notice?" Winters raised his eyebrows. "Don't be shitting me now, Dick. And don't give me that look."

"What look?" Winters asked, innocently. Nixon rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Never mind. A runner gave this to me. It's from Sink, and he's on the way to talk to us," Nixon said, handing him a paper. Winters opened it and read it through. He sighed angrily before rubbing his forehead. Winters put the paper away and looked back out.

"He knows we lost a man?" Winters asked.

"Yeah, he knows. He also knows you picked up two prisoners that talked." Nixon explained.

"About what?" Winters inquired, curiously.

"OB. Supply trouble. Hitler's favorite color. I don't know. None of it gets us across the river." Nixon explained, shaking his head.

"So, what's the point?" Winters asked, turning to him, not seeing why Sink thinks that it was necessary to demand a second patrol.

"Honestly? Sink's been bragging it up on the phone all morning. Now I think he's just showing off," Nixon explained, which made Winters roll his eyes. "I don't know Dick. You gave him a successful patrol, and he wants another one," Nixon commented, not really liking the situation any more than Winters.

"Successful," Winters said with disgust.

There was a crunch among the rocks and debris as Speirs walked up to them. "Sir, the men are ready for the debrief. Same roster as last night … well, mostly," Speirs said, not waiting too long for Winters to respond since the silence with him was awkward.

"Evening gents," the Colonel greeted as he joined the group looking across the river. He went to Winters and placed a hand on his shoulder before saying, "Y'all did a damn fine job on a tough mission last night. I'm wishing you good luck tonight because I'll be expecting more of the same. Did you brief the men?"

"We were just on our way sir," Nixon explained.

"Make sure you tell how damn proud I am of what they did," the Colonel said, taking his leave after the three men nodded.

"Would you like me to debrief the men?" Speirs pressed.

"No, I'll do it," Winters said, somewhat pensively. The three soon made their way to OP 2. Winters' mind was spinning with ideas and mixed emotions. He really didn't want to send these men on another patrol. But how would he explain it to Sink and the higher ups? When they entered the OP, Martin called out,

"Ten hut!" The men immediately stood at attention. Winters, Speirs and Nixon entered the room.

"Martin."

"Sir," Winters glanced over the men gathered.

"At ease," Winters said, making his way to the head of the table where they were gathered. The men relaxed in their standing position, but their faces didn't change the slightest. "You men did an excellent job last night. Proud of you, very proud of you. Colonel Sink is too—I just saw him. He's so proud he wants you to do another patrol tonight." Winters saw the looks of despair and worry come over the men's faces at the thought. It was uncomfortably quiet. Winters looked at his watch. "At any moment now the outpost we hit last will be up in flames, Martin."

"Sir," Martin nodded.

"Which means we have to venture farther into town this time. Captain Speirs, do you have the map?" Winters explained and then asked. Speirs searched in his pocket and handed the map to Sergeant Grant.

"Yes, sir." Winters laid out the map.

"Now, there is enemy movement here and here. This is our new house target here." Winters explained, pointing at different places on the map, but the places were quite close to each other. "Recovered all the boats, we'll setting off at the same place we did last night."

"We're not changing the plan any sir?" Martin asked.

"No, the plan is the same." The distress was evident and felt tangible among the group of men. "It'll be zero two hundred instead of zero one hundred. Clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, good. Because I want you all to get a full night's sleep tonight. Which means in the morning, you'll report to me that you made it across the river, into German lines, unable to secure any live prisoners," Winters said, decisively. "Understand?"

"Yes, sir," the men resounded.

Winters nodded, "Good. Look sharp for tomorrow. We're moving off the line." The men looked happy and relieved.

* * *

><p>"Next." Lillian had gotten tired of the word. She had called out that word so many times, she couldn't count it on her fingers and toes combined—it had stopped sounding like a word. She checked off another name on the list before a dark redhead came and sat on the bed.<p>

"Name, please?" Lillian asked.

"Sergeant Malarkey, Donald G., ma'am," Sergeant Malarkey replied.

"Please, no ma'am. Nurse Jenkins, Nurse Lillian or just Lillian is fine," Lillian said, checking off his name and writing a number next to his name. Malarkey nodded as she turned around to grab a blood pressure cuff.

"My apologies. Nurse Lillian," Malarkey said, putting his hands up in defeat.

Lillian chuckled as she gently took one of his arms with her hand, sending goose bumps up Malarkey's arm. She strapped the cuff around his muscular arm. Lillian then retrieved her stethoscope from around her neck, putting it on and quickly squeezed the inflation bulb to tighten the cuff around his arm. She placed the cool metal of the stethoscope on his skin and began to count. He looked up at her face. It was focused and tired. He had heard that she ran to OP 2 to try and save Jackson after they came back for the patrol and found Bill King dead. First day on new turf and already two people dead. Yet, she would've seemed perfectly fine if he was a citizen just staring at her; if he weren't a soldier, he would've just seen a working nurse. He wouldn't see the exhausted, caring woman in a uniform, trying to keep the men who fought for their country alive and who had seen too much death and injury in her line of work for however long she had in this war.

"Alright, your blood pressure sounds pretty good. Do you have any trouble sleeping?" Lillian asked, placing the stethoscope around her neck again. Lillian unwrapped the cuff from his arm and placed the tools down on a little table. She picked up her clipboard and began writing down some more information.

"Well, even though I'm usually in the middle of a warzone, no, I can get a decent night's sleep," Malarkey explained, his eyes wandering. He caught sight of her helmet that had the rank of second lieutenant on it; his eyes widened as she turned back to him.

"Follow my finger with your eyes please," Lillian said as Malarkey quickly adjusted his eyes back to normal. She began to move her finger in the shape of a cross. "What would you call a 'decent night's sleep' Sergeant?" she inquired, staring right at his eyes, continuing to move her finger in different directions and places.

"I don't know. A few hours." Malarkey explained, feeling slightly at ease with her.

"All you can get I suppose," Lillian said with a small smile as Malarkey gave into a chuckle. His chuckle was cut short as Lillian placed her careful hands at the bridge of his neck and jaw. He felt like he was being lightly massaged in an awkward place. "Your tonsils are fine, that's good. Stick out your tongue and say 'ah'." Luz, Liebgott, Grant and Heffron chuckled from their seats since they could hear and see the conversation.

"Ah?" Lillian looked at his mouth and nodded.

"Alright. Now, I'm going take a look at your heart. So, open up your jacket please." Malarkey was slightly taken aback by the request, but he undid his jacket to reveal his white tank-top that conformed to his body and muscles. Once Lillian was done writing, she turned back around and held the stethoscope again. "I'm going to need you to take a deep breath in and out twice, and then I'm going to move to your back, so can you please take off your jacket entirely?" Heffron and Luz especially were desperately trying to hold their laughter at that point.

"Yeah, sure," Malarkey replied, nodding. He slithered his arms out his sleeves and then sat up straight. Lillian lifted up his shirt, bending down slightly and placed the metal in the middle of his breast.

"Breathe in," she said, adjusting the stethoscope. Malarkey did so, trying in vain to look straight ahead. He ended up looking right at her pensive face. For some reason, he couldn't look or focus on anything else. "One more time." Malarkey did again, and Lillian listened a bit closer. "Alright, onto the back. I'm going to ask the same thing again."

"Fine with me. You're making sure that I can still fight in this war," Malarkey shrugged as Lillian moved around to the other side of the bed. She lifted the back of his shirt up and repeated what she had done before; Lillian also checked his knees, legs and feet. It was all okay.

"Okay Sergeant, you're all set," Lillian said with a congenial smile.

"Thanks Lillian," Malarkey said, honestly. "And you can call me Don, Donald, Malarkey, whichever." Lillian didn't say anything for a moment simply because, aside from Eugene, he was one of the first soldiers that she had a conversation with in Haguenau. Now, he was even allowing her to call him by his name and not his title. Lillian smiled.

"Alright Don, have a good day."

"You too,"


	3. Lengthy Recoveries

_Thanks to Amy, ana, amanda, Holly's Mean Reds, hodhod2011danger, and Liliesshadow for their reviews :)_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3: Lengthy Recoveries<strong>

March 1945—April 11, 1945

Germany

_Lillian Jenkins walked stiff-backed from the room. Her father, the retired Lieutenant Commander tapped the ash from his cigar, eyeing his defiant daughter wearily. Caroline Jenkins looked up the stairwell from her chair, watching her daughter slowly making her way to her room. But as calm as Lillian seemed, when the door to her room slammed shut, there was no mistaking her anger. Her father set his eyes towards Oliver, who looked poised and calm as well, but his eyes gave away his uneasiness. Caroline moved out of her seat and briskly began to ascend. Caroline could hear her crying from outside her door. She let herself in and closed the door quietly behind her. Lillian lay on her bed, her face buried in her pillows._

"_Lillian? Lillian, honey, isn't this a bit melodramatic, even for—?"  
><em>

"Melodramatic?"_ Lillian repeated, lifting her head and staring at her mother incredulously. Caroline's head bowed slightly, but she continued to listen. "How long were you planning on keeping it secret from me? Right before the 'big day'? I'm twenty-three-years-old! I should be able to choose what I want to do with my life!"_

"_Yes, you are grown-up. Why don't you start acting it?" Caroline asked. Lillian moved to sit on the edge of her bed, quickly wiping her tears. Caroline sat down next to her, but Lillian resolutely looked away. They stayed like that for several minutes._

"_I want to live the life I want. Not his," Lillian said, quietly. "I want to go on dates with whoever I like, and I want to choose if I want to marry him or not!"_

"_I know honey, I know," Caroline said in an attempt to soothe her daughter._

_Lillian huffed and asked harshly, "Do you now? You and Dad had an arranged marriage last I checked."_

"_Yes, but he is only trying to do what's best for you," Caroline reasoned._

"_What's that supposed to mean?" Lillian inquired, turning back to her mother._

"_Being wealthy is a privilege, and there are those in the world who will do very unscrupulous things to attain that privilege. Your father and I just don't want you to be a victim of a situation like that—" Lillian gaped angrily, completely surprised that this was coming from her mother._

"_Mother! So no man could ever marry me and not be after money? Well, maybe I better start earning my own so then you and Father won't ever have to worry about some, some gold-digger stealing yours!" Lillian cried, furiously._

Lillian woke up and immediately sat up. She kicked away the covers and stood up, stretched and got dressed in her uniform before sleepily walking over to the table that had a basin of water. She rolled up her sleeves and splashed her face with water. Using her arms to brace herself on the table, Lillian let the water drip from her face, exhaling slowly as she bent her head down. She opened her eyes and saw the jagged scar on her left forearm. She cringed outwardly at the sight of the still pinkish skin and just stared at it for a while. _Couldn't it just disappear? _Wiping off her face and rolling down her sleeves, Lillian went towards the mirror near the door and ran her fingers through her slightly tangled hair. She quickly and effortlessly put her hair back into a ponytail and walked out of her room, into the aid station.

"Good morning, Eugene," Lillian said.

"Mornin' … looks like you had bit of a rough night," Roe commented, checking off something on one of his charts, but smiling. "Can you do something for me?"

"It's nothing." Lillian waved it off. "What do you need me to do?"

"I need you to go to Major Winters and see if the supplies I ordered a while ago came in. When I went earlier this mornin', a private told me he was in supply briefs. They should be done by now. We're running low on gauze and morphine especially. And my damn—sorry, my syringe ain't working now. I'll take care of your charts for the day, what little there are," Roe explained.

"Of course, and be thankful that there aren't many. I can't remember a time where I had this little," Lillian said, walking out the door.

Walking towards company HQ made her return back to her dream. Lillian hadn't let herself think about what it would be like to return home, and what would happen to her if she did. But now that they were moving into Germany and she had started to think they would finally win this war, she thought of home at the oddest of moments. She'd have to find a place to live because she was certain that she did _not _want to go back to her family house. Did she even want to go back to Pennsylvania? Well, she'd have to find a job. Lillian hadn't read on any of the reports on the home front, because even if she tried to escape the war for a few moments, she'd have to revert back to screaming, bleeding or dying patients that needed to survive. They needed to go home more than she did. It was more than likely she would have to go back to her old home, for a while anyway. No matter how much she didn't like it … she'd have to go back …

"Hey Nurse Lil!" Malarkey called to her from behind, tearing Lillian from her thoughts. She turned around and smiled.

"Hi Don, how are you?" Lillian asked as they walked along the sidewalk.

"I'm doing alright. How about you?" Malarkey asked. Since the check-up back in Haguenau and over the past month, the two had become friendlier with one another. At the beginning, it was the passing "hi" and "hello," but nothing more. However, as they were getting deeper into Germany, getting settled in a new town nearly every night, waiting for orders and things to do, there wasn't a whole lot going on. They'd find each other by chance and just start talking.

"Hey, I gotta topic we haven't talked about yet—where're you from?"

"Originally?" Lillian asked, and Malarkey shrugged. "I was born in New York, but my family moved to Pennsylvania when I was still a baby."

"How about you? Where are you from?"

"Oregon," Malarkey replied. Lillian whistled.

"All the way on the other side of the country. It must've been quite a journey," Lillian commented, smiling.

Malarkey nodded. "Let's see. Oregon, Georgia, then to England, France, Belgium, the Netherlands, and now here. Oh yeah, it's been a journey alright."

"Indeed."

"You've probably had a hell of a—I mean, a pretty big journey too," Malarkey quickly corrected himself.

"Well, Pennsylvania to California, then Algeria, Italy, France, and Germany," Lillian explained. "I guess I've had my share of traveling." Malarkey nodded.

"Is Germany everything you hoped it to be? Is it as grand or dangerous as they made it out to be in the States?" She asked Malarkey. Malarkey's eyes widened and shook his head.

"Not even close! It's a lot nicer than I thought it would be," Malarkey replied, making them both chuckle. "It might be even better than France."

"I can agree with that. It's much easier to live here. I know to stitch and perform surgery and the like, I can understand the language a little … all I would need is a job, and I'd be set," Lillian joked. Although, thinking about it, that plan didn't sound too bad. If only her mind wouldn't add someone else into the equation. She figured he wouldn't want to stay here if he had the choice. But before Malarkey could say anything else, there was a car, screeching to a halt in front of HQ. Lewis Nixon jumped out, looking sulky.

"Is that—?"

"Captain Nixon. What is that he's wearing?" Lillian asked Malarkey, curiously.

"That's his harness. Did he jump into Berlin or something?" Malarkey examined closely, squinting his eyes.

"Well, I guess we'll find out sooner or later." Lillian shrugged.

"Hey! Nurse Jenkins!" a familiar voice called to her. She turned around to see George Luz with his accomplice Frank Perconte, walking towards them.

"Hey Malark!"

"Hello George, Frank," She greeted.

"Perco, Luz," Malarkey greeted.

"What do you two boys need today?" Lillian asked, a smile growing on her face.

"Actually, we just need answers to two, simple questions," Luz explained. Perconte nodded next to him.

"Really simple questions too," Perconte added.

"Alright, what are they?" Lillian asked, looking back and forth between the two men.

"So, say I met a foreign girl, a German girl, and I thought she was really, and I mean seriously, drop dead gorgeous," Luz began to explain, and Lillian nodded.

"Now, say she knows some English too, along with German of course," Perconte elaborated. "Should he—?"

"Should I ask her out in German or in English?" Luz finished.

"Well, she might not know English that well if she's German. So, it would be safer and probably much more impressive to her if you asked her in German,"

"Then …Willst du auf ein Date mit mir gehen?" _Will you go out on a date with me? _Luz asked, seriously and smirking.

"George, for Christ's sake, are you implying that Lillian's German?" Malarkey exclaimed.

"Did you seriously just ask her on a date? Christ, George—"

"Danke … aber ich kann nicht." _Thanks … but I can't. _Lillian replied slowly, trying to make sure she was saying it correctly while shaking her head. Perconte's, Luz's and Malarkey's mouths gaped.

"Jesus!" Luz exclaimed.

"That's very sweet of you George. But I'm sure there're regulations against that type of dating. Try it on one of the locals and see if you have any luck," Lillian said, honestly. "Goodbye you two. I'll see you around Don."

"Bye Lillian," Malarkey said.

"Bye Nurse Jenkins—thank you!" Perconte said, still kinda taken aback.

"Thanks Nurse Jenkins," Luz said, almost slyly but also surprised. As soon as she turned around, Malarkey slapped Luz upside the head, making Luz cry out and Perconte laugh.

Lillian went across the road into the building, responding to the soldiers who greeted her along the way. Her heart began to beat a little faster in anxiousness, remembering she was going to see Winters. The two of them hadn't spoken much since she arrived. In her mind however, she was going to see Winters for more than just checking on the medical supplies. There were things he needed to know, and she figured that he would eventually ask. She might as well get them over with, right?

"Has anyone seen Major Winters?" she asked a few of the men in the entrance of the house.

"He just went to find Captain Nixon, Nurse Jenkins. You missed him by a minute."

"Captain Nixon's upstairs," Lipton explained.

"Thank you," she said, nodding to the other men and headed up the stairs. She heard someone talking, but it was too quiet to understand what he was saying or who he was.

"Hear what I said Nix? You've been demoted," Winters said. _Captain Nixon? Demoted?_

"Yeah, demoted gotcha. Because I don't know how I'm gonna tell these parents that their sons never made it out of the goddamned plane," Nixon continued, his voice sounding different compared to his normal, laid-back tone. However, Lillian remembered very clearly what that letter had said when she found out about her brother.

"You tell them what you always tell them. Their sons died as heroes," Winters said with authority and confidence in his voice.

"You really still believe that?" Nixon chuckled, seeming as if he couldn't really believe Winters had said that.

"Yeah, yeah I do. Don't you?" Lillian didn't want to wait for one of the men to notice her in the doorway, so she knocked on the doorframe and walked in.

"Major, Captain," Lillian greeted, saluting them.

"Jenkins," Winters greeted, dismissing her salute. Nixon kept staring ahead and didn't really acknowledge her.

"Am I interrupting something? I can come back—"

"No, no," Winters said. "I'll see you later Nix." Nixon grunted in response before drinking some more. Winters walked with Lillian, back down to the front of the house. "What's going on?"

"Well, I came to see if the medical supplies came in, sir," Lillian explained as they walked down the stairs.

"Oh yes, they did. Every one of them," Winters said, opening the door and starting to walk in the direction of the building where the supplies had been dropped off.

"That's good. We want to make sure we have enough for the next time we move out and for however long we're going to be here." A silence came over them as they continued walking. Both of them felt like saying something, but they didn't know what to say.

"So … have you settled in? Among the men?" Winters asked, breaking the quiet. He hadn't talked to her since France; he was so busy with paper work, and realizing that in fact, he disliked it.

"Well Major, I think the men and I are still trying to figure each other out, but I can earnestly say I like the paratroopers better than the Navy," Lillian chuckled.

"The Navy?" Winters questioned, confused.

"Yes sir, I'm sure you remember my father. You think he just let me enlist into the Army? Oh no. What with his credentials and friends in the Navy that he had to uphold?" Lillian rolled her eyes, which made Winters crack a smile as he opened the door. "The Lieutenant Commander will never get tired of playing that card."

"Here you go, Lieutenant. All of the supplies: gauze, syringes, morphine—" Winters read off as Lillian began to open some of the crates and take a look inside and see how good the supplies were. The first was filled with gauze, and she smiled thankfully and happily.

"Lillian!" Roe came running in, panting and slightly red in the cheeks. "Throw me some gauze, will you?"

"Here, what's going on?" Lillian asked, tossing him a roll.

"Replacement tripped and sent my stuff flyin' everywhere. Scissors got stuck in his shoulder," Roe explained, shaking his head. Lillian's eyebrows rose.

"You need more morphine, or are you good until I get this stuff carted over there?" Lillian asked.

"Nah, I'm good, thanks though. I'll get Spina to come and help you," Roe said before saluting Winters. "Major." Winters saluted the medic before he took off. Lillian shook her head.

"That's something I've never heard before," Lillian commented, flicking a syringe with her index finger.

"Yeah," Winters commented, almost awkwardly. Lillian put the syringe back in before she picked up the entire box by herself. Winters went to grab the box and help her. He wasn't sure why, it was just an impulse.

"I got it, thank you Major," Lillian assured him, adjusting the box in her arms. Winters moved back and nodded as she nodded in thanks, although it was slightly awkward. Lillian then proceeded to a different box to look at the amount of morphine they had received.

"So, Jenkins, how is your family doing? Your father sounds like he hasn't changed," Winters said, trying to strike up conversation.

"They're good. When I last talked to them, both my mom and dad were in their usual routine. The bridge parties, the social events, the charity nonsense," Lillian explained as she looked through the box. Winters raised his eyebrows; she almost seemed bored, and it sounded like she didn't care. He quickly shook his head. Lillian looked him hesitantly. "But, um, Major. About Oliver—" Winters chuckled.

"How is that daredevil doing? I haven't seen or talked to him since forty-one." Winters asked with ease, which made Lillian slightly regret opening her mouth about her brother.

"He's … Oliver died. He was shot in combat against the Luftwaffe in Salerno." Lillian explained, quickly. Winters' face dropped noticeably, which made Lillian return to the boxes in front of her.

"Wh—?"

"A little over a year ago," Lillian answered before Winters finished his question. "September 25, 1943."

"Uh … I'm so sorry—"

"Thanks," Lillian cut him off. Winters ran a hand through his hair as Lillian continued to rummage through the box. There was a moment of complete silence between the two where Winters wasn't sure of what to say.

"How—how did Mariann take it? Wasn't she engaged to Oliver before I left?" Winters asked, leaning against the wall. Lillian nodded.

"They were married about a month or so before he was deployed. She was a mess for months, or at least the last few months I saw her because shortly after he died, I joined the war effort and was in training," Lillian explained, still rummaging through supply crates, not looking at Winters. "Apparently, the only month they had been together was enough for her to become pregnant." Winters' eyes widened and mouth gaped.

"Pregnant?" Winters repeated, flabbergasted.

"Yes, unless the obvious changes in attitude or the vomiting were because I was joining the Army and leaving her," Lillian explained, rolling her eyes. "Last I heard from her, she was a few weeks before her due date and her stomach as big as a bowl of punch at a banquet."

"Major, sir," Spina greeted, coming into the room.

"Just grab whatever you can carry without hurting yourself. We need to get all of this catalogued and moved," Lillian told Spina as she stacked a box on top of another.

"Roe should be coming over in a couple of minutes. When I left, he was finishing stitching up a guy's shoulder," Spina explained, taking three boxes and starting to stack them. Lillian grabbed her two boxes and stood up straight.

"Have a good day Major," Lillian said before quickly leaving with boxes in hand. Winters was going to say something, but decided against it and nodded before he walked back into HQ.

The day went by smoothly, of course after the replacement was patched up, the scissors out of his shoulder. That was the only injury they had. Those that were recovering from influenza were still there, but that was all, really. Lillian pondered throughout the day if Captain Nixon was all right after being demoted. It wasn't necessarily a good thing, but then again, Lillian had no idea as to why. But, what threw her off was that Nixon didn't seem or sound like it mattered to him at all. She thought that maybe there was something else that was affecting the usually debonair Captain. However, while Lillian was cleaning up the aid station before she went to bed, she heard a crash. She immediately stopped and to the nearby window and saw a man walk into the window of a liquor store across the street. She waited to see who it was … but when she saw Captain Nixon walk out, she walked away from the window calmly and continued walking to where she was housed, as if nothing had happened.

"Hey Lillian, you got mail," Roe called to her, the following morning. She signed off on one of her remaining patients, and she looked at Roe curiously and questioningly.

"Are you sure?" Lillian asked, walking over to him. Roe handed her the letter; she read the address and laughed, quite surprised. "This is from my old CO, back in Italy. I never thought I would receive a letter from her."

_Dear Lt. Jenkins,_

_I hope all is well for you in whatever European country you're in right now. Things down here in wonderful, bright, warm and disgustingly humid Italy have slowed down and, to many girls Italy has become a boring place. We have barely had any patients to treat over the month, and I sincerely wish there aren't many for you either. Maybe this damned war is finally coming to an end._

_Unfortunately, there is a reason as to why I'm writing you. Diana died of influenza last night—March 17th—as one of our patients. A soldier was sent to us, not that long after you left, who had been sick for a month with no change in his condition despite the medical treatment was receiving from his company medic. Since some our newbies didn't really know how to handle the complications from influenza—what I diagnosed him having—O'Brien took him on as her patient. She nursed him back to health practically before any of us noticed something was wrong. The sick bastard stayed for 3 weeks; the day he was discharged from the 94th, O'Brien had a fever and was coughing. She dismissed it as the common cold because one of our girls had it previously, and they were in the same room. That just got progressively worse, and of course she lied, telling me that she self-administered medication that first night. I ordered her on bed rest for a week. By that point she was as pale as the walls and weak as a piece of wheat in the wind (forgive the analogy, one of the damn new girls is from Oklahoma and it's rubbing off on me). She told me to contact you if anything were to happen._

_And, I cannot believe I'm writing this already, but I miss that incredibly annoying laugh she'd always have at the end of her greeting to me in the morning. So, her body is being sent back to her brother (yes, that one. He was sent back from war) and his wife who are going to give her a proper burial. I'm sorry to be giving you this news, but it was a dying woman's request._

_With best regards,_

_Major Marie Fillion_

"Lillian?" Roe asked, seeing Lillian's drastic change in appearance. Her facial expression had dropped, and she had become much paler. "Hey Lillian, you alright?" She quickly looked up at Roe, and she wasn't entirely sure if she could tell him at the moment.

"I need to go walk, Eugene. Excuse me," Lillian said quickly, brushing past him and running out the aid station door.

"Lillian!" he called to her, but she was already out the door.

Lillian went through a few alleys and found a deserted backdoor entrance of a store, now occupied by the paratroopers. She sat down, the letter still in hand. _Diana? Dead? _Lillian looked back at the letter again before turning her head away to let a few tears fall. She exhaled shakily. _She's dead, but she wouldn't want me to mope around. _Lillian swallowed uneasily, folded the letter back, and put it in her pocket. She leaned forward, putting her face in her hands, trying to calm her nerves and emotions. However, that didn't really work and only produced more quiet tears. But Lillian convinced herself that it wasn't going to do any good if she hid and cried—she had work to do, and because of Diana's fun and hyper disposition, she would've wanted Lillian to be doing anything else other than crying over her. She stood up and wiped her face with her sleeves and hands and just stood there for a moment so her face could relax and decrease in redness that Lillian was sure she had from crying. When she thought she was okay, Lillian walked out of the alley and out towards the aid station, only to be bumped into.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to—oh, Nurse Jenkins! I'm really sorry!" Janovec apologized, flushing a little.

"It's alright Janovec; I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. You look like you're in a hurry," Lillian commented.

"I gotta tell a friend the news. Have you heard?" he asked, curiously.

"Heard what?" Lillian inquired.

"Three hundred thousand Krauts just surrendered. We're moving out in an hour," Janovec explained, happily.

"I didn't, but that is news. I better get back to the aid station and start packing. Thank you," Lillian said as she jogged lightly past Janovec and back to the aid station. Moving on again … Lillian wondered where to this time. She walked through the door.

"Eugene, we're moving out again. We have an hour."


	4. Life Threatening Revelations

_Caveat: This is a long chapter._

_Thanks to Liliesshadow and Madame Minuit12 for their reviews. :)_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4: Life Threatening Revelations<strong>

The following hour was one of the longest hours of Lillian's life. Eugene Roe persisted on knowing why she had run out of the station the way she did. To drop the issue quickly, Lillian explained that she had received a letter from an old CO saying that a friend was dead. Eugene didn't press the issue further, but he was concerned that she was suppressing her true feelings. She had only received the letter an hour previous, and she definitely had strong emotions, considering she ran out of the aid station. He was worried that she was creating a shell to hide in. But those thoughts had to be pushed to the back on his mind for a while, and Eugene accepted Lillian as she was for now. He would bring it up again later when things had slowed down and they weren't running around. Lillian and Spina were bringing the last of the boxes to the jeep where all of the medical supplies were being put when she caught the end of a conversation.

"—divorcing me," she heard Captain Nixon say, folding and stuffing something into his pocket as she passed him.

"I'm sorry," replied Winters, sounding indifferent on the matter, but concerned for his friend's sake.

"She's taking everything. She's taking the house, taking the kid. She's taking the dog—it's not even her dog! It's my dog! SHE'S TAKING _MY _DOG!" Nixon then threw his helmet at and kicked the jeep. Winters didn't say anything, and Lillian turned around to see the fuming Nixon. Lillian and Winters exchanged a glance before looking away and heading off to their respective places, getting ready to move out. She was double-checking boxes in the truck when she saw Speirs coming up behind her.

"Hey Perconte, got a lighter?" Speirs asked, speaking around the cigarette in his mouth.

"No, sir. I don't smoke. Where're we heading?" Perconte asked.

"The Alps. Let me see that lighter," Speirs ordered. Frank sighed.

_"The Alps? Why Bavaria?" _Lillian thought.

"The Alps?" Perconte asked.

"That near Berlin, sir?" Denver Randleman asked.

"Nope," Speirs replied, igniting the lighter.

"Bavaria," Lillian said, turning around with box in hand.

"The birthplace of national socialism," Webster put in as Lillian loaded the last box onto the truck. "Have you been there Nurse Jenkins?"

"No David, just Algeria and Italy. I was just pretty good at geography and memorizing," Lillian explained, throwing her duffle over her back.

"So that means no dropping in Berlin?" Luz asked, tossing the baseball back into his glove.

"No dropping in Berlin. Hitler ordered the Waffen SS to hole up in the mountains. 'Repel all the invaders.' He wants them to start a guerilla war," Speirs elaborated.

"_Invaders _… damn, I like the sound of that." Lillian chuckled at Randleman's comment before she walked away. SS in the Alps, well, it was definitely different.

"Mind if I join this crowd?" Lillian asked, coming up to the closest truck she could find, not already full. Talbert and Malarkey, among others, smiled and greeted her. "Eugene! Didn't see you there," she said.

"You know Doc, Nurse Lil. Silent, but heavenly," Popeye joked, shoving Roe a bit.

"Is that the new version of 'silent but deadly' Robert?" Lillian asked smiling as Talbert, being the closest, helped her up into the jeep. Popeye shrugged as the men laughed, but one jeered,

"It's the paratrooper's dedication to the doctors, and nurses of course, everywhere!" The men laughed harder as the engines began to roar. Lillian started chuckling at the men's singing.

"He ain't gonna jump no more!"

"Hey Nurse Lil, weren't you telling Malarkey a while ago that you conducted a choir?" Talbert asked Lillian as they sat down next to each other.

"Should I ask why?" Lillian asked in response, looking at Malarkey who raised his hands in defeat.

"Maybe you can organize this shithole of men to sing properly because … I don't think those guys are doing anything to help," Talbert explained, nodding his head to the men that Lillian was chuckling at previously.

"My musical ears are bleeding," Lillian joked. Talbert was still looking at her.

"Oh Lillian, I think he's serious," Malarkey commented with a chuckle. Lillian cocked her head to the side with a hint of a smile, but nodded.

"Alright, alright. You want me to? I will. But that means, you have to cut in, be loud, and follow my lead," Lillian explained, standing up.

"We can do that. We have Toccoa men here!" Talbert proclaimed, to which the Toccoa men gave a cheer.

"If we can follow Captain Herbert Shithole Sobel, I think we can handle someone who is, by far, more reasonable," one of them commented.

"Ready?" Lillian asked, eyeing of the men. "I hope to hear all of your voices the loudest."

"The risers wrapped around his neck—connectors cracked his dome.  
>Suspension lines were tied in knots around his skinny bones!<br>The canopy became his shroud, he hurtled to the ground.  
>He ain't gonna jump no more!"<p>

The tempo was easy to pick up for Lillian, based on the way the men were singing previously.

"Gory, gory, what a helluva way to die.  
>Gory, gory, what a helluva way to die.<br>Gory, gory, what a helluva way to die.  
>He ain't gonna jump no more!"<p>

As soon she started actually listening to the words, her face dropped slightly because she understood the reality of what they were singing all too well.

"He hit the ground, the sound was 'Splat!'—his blood went spurting high!  
>His comrades then were heard to say: 'A hell of a way to die!'<br>He lay there rolling round in the welter of his gore,  
>He ain't gonna jump no more."<p>

She looked down a bit, but still moving her hands to the tempo to keep the men in line. But she brought her face back and forced a smile as they continued.

"Gory, gory, what a helluva way to die.  
>Gory, gory, what a helluva way to die.<br>Gory, gory, what a helluva way to die,  
>He ain't gonna jump no more!"<p>

The men laughed about it, and Lillian too gave into a chuckle. "That was very nice harmony at the end … for paratroopers," Lillian shrugged, already expecting reactions from the men about the comment. She just laughed when some of them did.

"What's wrong with paratroopers knowing howda sing Nurse Lil?" Sergeant Grant called very loudly from his driving seat. Lillian smiled and walked towards the driver's seat.

"Absolutely nothing Sergeant Grant. My brother loved to sing, and he was pretty good at it," Lillian explained loudly, so he could hear it over the engine.

"Your brother's a paratrooper? I haven't heard a Jenkins round here before," Talbert commented.

"82nd Airborne. That's why," Lillian explained, turning back around. Talbert nodded.

"Such a shame. He could've had a good time with us," Talbert said, which made Lillian smile a little wider.

"Lillian," she turned to Roe, who was eyeing her in a concerned manner. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes Eugene, I'm fine. Please don't worry," Lillian assured. Roe only raised his eyebrows.

"Why wouldn't she be alright? … Did something happen?" Malarkey asked, confused. He looked back and forth between Roe and Lillian. She sighed and sat down next to Malarkey.

"A friend of mine, back in Italy, died of the influenza a week ago," Lillian explained. Malarkey's face dropped slightly.

"I'm sorry. Were you close?" Malarkey asked.

"We were … we went through training together, almost all of it anyway, and we were stuck in every post together; we both went to Algeria and both went to Italy. We didn't split up until I was reassigned with you boys. When I went California for my training, she had been there for a week or so."

Lillian chuckled to herself, but then explained to Malarkey, "We met at our first lunch break where she warned me not to get the bread because it was stale, hard as a rock and capable of breaking teeth."

Lillian leaned back and smiled, "After that, we just became friends. We'd hang out every break and shoot the breeze, complain about our day mostly. That's how we became really close. I'd say four or five weeks later we were shipped off to Algeria, or I should say some of the girls in our training unit. Algeria was nothing I had expected. It shaped up any nurse fast, and real fast because if you weren't ready at the drop of a hat, you were in trouble. Algeria was a smack across the face as to what this war was like."

Lillian shook her head and said quietly, "I had never seen carnage, or to that extent even, ever in my life. And how I managed to get through it is beyond comprehension."

_"Diana! Grab a marker and follow me!" When Diana caught up with her towards the doors of the hospital, Lillian explained, "Take a marker. Write 'W' or 'M' on their forehead. Wounded or mortem."_

"_Mortem? Dead?" Diana said, shocked and somewhat offended._

"_We can't be working on those we can't save, you know that." Lillian argued. "We need to save all we can because who knows if more are coming. Triage."_

"_More coming?"_

"_This wasn't a patrol gone wrong. Something serious is happening."_

"I can't remember exactly how long we stayed in Algeria. Diana kept track—it was D-Day plus one hundred something. I think it was almost two hundred days. Then sometime in November, we were transferred over to Italy, the 94th, which was different to us. Different, stricter COs and XOs, we were an Evacuation Hospital instead of Station Hospital, everything was different. There were five of us, and the CO, at the time First Lieutenant Marie Fillion, was something else. I have never met a woman like her in my life! She's smart and good at what she does, but she always managed to keep herself focused on what she was supposed to do, no matter how crazy, drastic or horrific the situation. Marie and Diana both helped me to hone in on my weaknesses and strengths, so I could become the nurse I am now. These were the women I had read about and wanted to become in my own way, and it was all thanks to Diana who had helped me survive training …" Lillian was going to continue, but then catching herself, she chuckled in embarrassment before saying, "Sorry I … I usually don't go on like that." She stared out at the passing countryside without really taking any of it in.

"No, no—it's alright," Malarkey said, sharing a look with Roe. "She sounded like a great woman." Malarkey retrieved his canteen and held it out Lillian. "To Diana?"

Lillian smiled and uncapped her own and held it out. "To Diana," she repeated as their canteen clanged. They both took a sip before Lillian began to recap and reattach hers to her person.

"So now, I have question," Malarkey asked, and Lillian looked at him with raised eyebrows.

"Sure, shoot."

"How do you know German?" Malarkey asked, leaning back. Lillian laughed.

"Ah, thanks George, first Perconte, now this? I told him that in confidence," Lillian joked.

"The third day of training, I realized that there was this one girl, who was just always completely alone. I figured she just hadn't found a niche yet. So, I went up to her and sat next to her during one of our breaks. I introduced myself, and she seemed surprised that I came up to her. Her name was Ella, and she told me almost every other nurse in our unit had isolated her and thought she was a spy because her parents were fresh off the boat from Germany. You could tell from her accent," Lillian explained.

"And we go on talking about life, how I thought it was ridiculous and stupid and horrid of these girls to isolate her and call her a spy, we somehow got onto the topic of speaking the language. She said that she missed speaking her native language. She always used to speak it at home. Now, don't ask me how I thought of it, but out of my mouth, I proposed that she could teach me German."

Malarkey gave her a look, and Lillian laughed, "Alright, I was thinking where we were going to be sent, we were going to be interacting with Nazi soldiers, German civilians, or people who spoke German, one way or another. The way I saw it, Ella was already one step ahead of all the other nurses by knowing English and German. She didn't mind teaching me and thought it was a great idea. For the little time we had together, I'm not that bad. Well, as long as I'm asking about someone's health."

"That's pretty impressive though," Malarkey commented, nodding his head.

"You know German Nurse Jenkins?" Talbert asked, curiously. Lillian hesitated a moment before saying,

"Nur ein bischen," she replied.

"What does that mean?" Talbert asked.

"Only a little," Lillian explained.

"_'You are now entering enemy territory. Keep on the alert.' _Well, no shit," Popeye said aloud as their truck passed the sign. The men laughed.

Storming into houses and telling families they had five minutes to leave was something new to Lillian. The last people she had conversed with in broken German were POWs in Italy. They were not pleasant, and she hadn't wanted to talk with them anyway. Sure, the families weren't easy to persuade, but at least they listened and obeyed. What also struck her though, along the other men who caught onto it, was that almost every person said they weren't a Nazi. "No Nazis in Germany?" some of the men asked. It befuddled them; they had seen and fought them everywhere else, but there were none left in the 'Fatherland'? However, once they got moving, they saw Nazis, and plenty of them. Defeated, worn, but still marching with a sense of pride. Lillian decided to stand up and stretch, giving the other men on the bench some room to stretch out their legs and not sit so close together. She was marveling at the sight of so many enemy soldiers when she heard someone start shouting.

"Hey you! That's right! You stupid Kraut bastards—THAT'S RIGHT! Say hello to Ford! And General fucking Motors! You stupid fascist pigs! Look at you! You have HORSES! What were you thinking?" She recognized that furious yelling voice belonging to David Webster. She saw him yelling at the German soldiers before someone sat him down, but he got back up and continued yelling, "FOR WHAT? YOU IGNORANT, SERVILE SCUM—WHAT THE FUCK ARE WE DOING HERE? HUH?"

Almost every man around her quieted and became tense. They had started asking themselves that same question more and more the longer this war dragged on. Sometimes, some of them couldn't even think of a reasonable answer to that question. She knew why she chose to enlist, but that was very different as to why there was a war to begin with. She certainly didn't know the answer. The 101st entered the little town of Landsberg for a rest and maybe for the night, and the evicting process began once again.

"I want to send out some patrols. I want Dog in the village, and Easy and Fox out in the woods," Winters said to Lipton, Speirs, Welsh and the other COs.

They began to give their orders as Lillian, Spina, Roe and a few others went into the biggest building and began to set-up their temporary aid station. The building they had been assigned was laid out for offices, so it was a little troublesome and difficult to set-up cots. But they had the most storage space they had seen in a long time. Roe told Lillian to find the nearest closet she saw and just start piling some of the boxes in. While she was organizing the boxes, she heard water running in a nearby room with someone sighing in relief. She quietly placed the box she had down and then looked around to find a door ajar. From what Lillian could see, it was probably a bathroom.

"Jesus Christ … that feels good." Lillian knew that voice. She slowly moved to the door, and she was right. Lillian opened the door to find the man leaning on the white, slightly rusty sink with his right hand running under water.

"Captain Nixon?" Lillian asked. Nixon looked up at her in surprise.

"Oh, Lieutenant Jenkins," Nixon greeted. "I was just—"

"Sir, what happened to your hand?" Lillian asked, seeing his wrist swelling and purplish-blue from where she was standing.

"Oh, it's nothing Jenkins. I just—" Nixon began to explain as Lillian shut the door behind her and moved towards him. "I'm fine, don't worry." Before Nixon could react or defend himself, Lillian had grabbed his wrist and moved it out of the water. He cried out in pain and clamped his eyes shut in pain, "OW! Jesus Christ!"

"I'm sorry sir, but you're not," Lillian said as she turned his wrist over to see the damage. Nixon winced. "This needs to be bandaged and taken care of, sir." Lillian turned off the water and walked to the door. "Eu—!"

"No, no, Jenkins. I'm fine, I can handle it myself." Nixon stopped her, taking her wrist, spinning her around and shaking his head. "You don't need to get Doc, I can handle this." She looked at Nixon. She considered calling Roe and ignoring the captain's wishes, but seeing Nixon's worried and pale face, she realized there was a reason why he didn't come to any of the medics for help.

"Stay where you are. I'll be right back. Keep your hand elevated … like this," Lillian explained as she readjusted his arm carefully to be upright. Nixon stood there confused, holding his forearm up as Lillian walked out of the room. She quickly rummaged through some of the boxes for tape, a splint or something else sufficient, ibuprofen, and some type of sling. She came back in and told Nixon to sit down on the floor. Lillian rolled up her sleeves and organized her things on the ground. He carefully sat down on the tile floor, looking at her curiously.

"What're you doing?" Nixon asked as Lillian began to carefully dry his hand and wrist.

"Bandaging your wrist. You're very lucky I caught you like this, sir. If you had waited much longer, this would've looked really ugly and hurt worse than now," Lillian explained.

"How could it hurt worse than now?" Nixon asked, dreading the thought as he winced again. Lillian began to examine the slowly decreasing swelling and said,

"Sir, you have a broken wrist."

"_Broken_?" Nixon repeated, his eyes widening.

"Yes, sir, and if you left it without some type of cast, the bone would try and heal itself the wrong way, causing more pain," Lillian explained before aligning a decent split she had found in their newly restocked supplies.

"Great," Nixon commented, somewhat darkly.

"How did you get this, sir? Do you know?" Lillian inquired.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I got it … hitting a wall … or something," Nixon explained, not really looking at her and hesitating on what he was saying.

"You punched a wall, sir?" Lillian questioned, raising an eyebrow. "You must've hit it very hard sir, or the wall had to be made of brick because I don't think plaster or wood would do this damage," Lillian explained. Nixon eyed her suspiciously, but Lillian didn't look up. "When did the pain start?"

"It was probably two or three days ago."

"When or how long ago was that you hit this wall?"

"… Two or three days ago,"

"That was also the same day you got into a scrap with your jeep, sir, before moving out. Are you sure—?"

"Alright fine. Yeah, I'm the idiot who punched my goddamned jeep. Happy now?" Nixon angrily spat at her. Lillian did not falter in slightest and continued bandaging the splint in place. Nixon exhaled and wiped his face with his other hand.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you like that. I shouldn't've—"

"No, sir. You should've. I only asked for your sake," Lillian explained. Nixon's brow furrowed as Lillian looked up at him. "Telling me what exactly happened to your wrist helps me to assess the situation and also to proceed in the correct manner to make sure your bone heals properly," Lillian explained before looking down at his wrist, making sure everything was where it should be. Nixon gave a short laugh of amazement.

"You are that good," Nixon commented. Lillian looked back up in confusion. "That's why you're a lieutenant."

"Sir, I'm at the bottom of the food chain." Lillian laughed.

"Are you serious?" Nixon asked, surprised by the fact.

"Yes, sir. Every incoming nurse receives the rank of a second lieutenant now." Lillian continued, "And I don't believe I qualify for a rise in rank." Nixon opened his mouth to argue, but she added, "Even _if _I wanted one, sir." Nixon eyed her as Lillian continued on. Nixon gave into a slight smirk; she was okay. "Is this too tight, sir?"

"It hurts, but it's a hell of a lot better than it did," Nixon replied.

"Good." Lillian took out two pills, "This is ibuprofen. It helps to relieve the pain." Nixon gladly popped them in his mouth and swallowed them down with water.

"If it's alright for me to ask, sir, why did you get so angry that you thought hitting a metal jeep would make you feel better?" Lillian inquired. Nixon sighed, but remained silent. She remembered Eugene not pushing her too hard for information about Diana and how grateful she had been. Hopefully Captain Nixon would realize that it was better to talk something through, than letting it sit in your gut. Lillian hadn't been able to find a proper sling, but was trying to fashion something suitable from the cot linens when Nixon said in a quiet, bitter voice,

"You expect that those who said they would support you, will, even when you're gone two, three years. But then something like this always happens. They send you a letter, saying they can't wait any longer for you to come home. Among other things," Nixon went on. He was about to continue, but he saw her left forearm and the rather painful-looking scar as she continued working to get the sling to the proper length.

"Jesus, what happened to your arm?" Lillian looked down and remembered she had rolled up her sleeves. She looked back at Nixon; he wasn't supposed to see that.

"Oh, that. It's an old scar. A patient wasn't particularly fond of me," Lillian explained vaguely, holding out the finished sling. "Put your arm in here, sir." After a few moments of struggle and careful placement, Nixon finally got his arm into the sling.

Lillian then put a bottle into his good hand. "If the pain becomes really bad, here's for today and tomorrow. You can't take more than two in a span of four hours. After you finish that, if you finish it, you come to me. And sir, don't drink this with alcohol." Nixon stared at her as Lillian put the strap around his neck.

"Why are you doing this?" Nixon asked, seriously. "You probably should report me or something like that."

"Sir, I know from personal experience that sometimes people hold in things from others, trying to suppress it, trying to forget it happened because the rest of the world around them is just as confusing and frustrating. But eventually, people need to vent before it gets out of hand and they have too much to hide. I was only trying to help you because I'm a nurse," Lillian explained, adjusting the strap so he could wear it comfortably.

"And it's my job to make sure you and every other man I come in contact with make it through this war with as little injury, whether physical or emotional, as possible," Nixon nodded as Lillian quickly fixed the twisted strap.

"Do I have to wear the sling?" Nixon asked.

"If you want to heal and not hurt, sir, then yes. And you have to wear the sling for at least a week; the splint, two or three, depending on well and how fast your bone heals," Lillian said.

"I promise to keep it elevated?" Lillian looked at her superior's, admittedly, devilishly charming, smiling face. She smiled because she knew he put it on in hopes to persuade her in his favor.

"No sir, wear the sling. It'll help heal faster," Lillian said, shaking her head, cleaning up her supplies.

"What am I supposed to tell people if someone asks?" Nixon asked, standing up with Lillian.

"Tell them you fell down some stairs while you were trying to check out a house," Lillian shrugged as the two walked out. "Now if I see you without that splint or sling—"

"You'll have my head. I know that now," Nixon finished, nodding and raising his good hand in defeat. "Thank you Jenkins. You didn't have to do that."

"I did, sir. If I found that any later, Eugene might've ripped off your head," Lillian explained to which Nixon chuckled. "But, you're welcome." The two went off in their own directions. Lillian was pretty confident that despite Nixon's nice conversation with her, he wasn't right. She didn't know from what else he was suffering, but she was sure it was more than just his divorce.

There was something that war had brought out of Lewis Nixon. She needed to tell someone … someone to watch out for and after him. As if by chance, Major Winters came out of a nearby room, flipping through a folder. _Of course!_

"Major Winters, sir!" Lillian called to him, running as she did.

"Yes, Lieutenant Jenkins, what can I do for you?" Winters asked, turning around and looking up from his files.

"If you have a moment, sir, I'd like to speak with you privately about one of the men," Lillian explained, quietly. He looked around and saw that there was no one in really close distance from them, deeming the spot they were at okay. He nodded for to continue.

"Who exactly?" Winters questioned.

"Sir, it's Captain Nixon," Lillian replied, hesitantly. Winters' brow furrowed, and his eyes narrowed slightly in confusion.

"What about him?" Winters persisted. Lillian shifted her weight uneasily, not sure how he would take it. However, she had told him about this issue before, and just because he had a more personal connection with the man in question, she should not sugar-coat the situation.

"Sir, Captain Nixon should be relieved from his duties for a while, or the very least his work and involvement should be cut down," Lillian said. Winters shook his head a little in bewilderment as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Besides the physical fact that his wrist is broken, any type of—"

"Broken?" Winters repeated.

"Yes sir, he … punched a jeep a couple of days ago. But any type of paperwork will be difficult for a few weeks with the sling and splint; he can probably sign paperwork, but not write and/or type work and files up," Lillian explained to Winters, who just stood there in amazement.

"However, the more concerning problem I wanted to address was his emotional state—"

"Jenkins," Winters started, "I know Captain Nixon—"

"The best of all sir, which is why I'm telling you. His divorce, I believe, isn't the only factor, and I think he needs to—"

"Lieutenant Jenkins," Winters cut her off, which immediately silenced Lillian. "I will take your concerns and carry them out how I see fit. That is all." Winters began to look back at his files and walk off, but Lillian, not ready to give up the fight quite yet, walked after him.

"But sir—" Lillian started, but Winters turned around.

"Jenkins. That is all," Winters said to her, seriously.

Lillian stopped in her tracks and looked at Winters. After a moment, he walked out of the building quickly, looking back at the files in his hand. Even though Winters was sure he sounded arbitrarily cold toward Lillian, he was just trying to protect his friend and keep Nixon's new state quiet because he noticed it as well. Lillian hesitated on going after him a second time, wanting making more of an argument out of it, and she went out just in time to see Frank Perconte run up.

"We found something, out on the patrol, we, uh, came across—" Perconte started, panting and trying to get his words out.

"What, what, what? Frank, Frank, what is it?" Winters asked, trying to get him to calm down and say it. But Perconte shook his head.

"I don't know sir. I don't know." He replied. "It's like a, like a giant enclosed—camp …"

"A camp?" Winters and Lillian asked simultaneously. Winters turned to see Lillian, who he only exchanged a quick glance with before turning back to Perconte.

"Barb wire fences easily ten maybe twenty feet high, smoke everywhere—that's how we noticed the area in the first place, sir. That and the people lined up against the fence—" Perconte continued.

"How many Frank?" Winters asked.

"I don't know, sir. I could only see those people at the gate before I ran here," Perconte explained.

"How many Frank? Twenty? Fifty? A hundred? More?" Winters persisted.

"I'd say at least fifty around the gate, sir," Perconte estimated.

"What did they look like Frank?" Lillian asked. "Good? Not good? Pale? Red? Skinny? Fat? Describe them."

"Really skinny, really pale, but they were also in uh, these—uniforms, striped uniforms, and like I said, as soon as we saw that, I went running," Perconte elaborated. Winters and Lillian looked at each other, worry filling their thoughts.

"Jenkins, tell Roe I want every medic equipped and ready to move out in three minutes," Winters ordered.

"Yes, sir," Lillian nodded before running off.

"Frank, would you be able to direct us to this place, this camp?" Winters asked as Nixon and Speirs came up to Winters.

"Yes, sir," Perconte replied.

"Good, you'll ride with us." Winters turned to Speirs and Nixon. "Speirs, get the rest of Easy to move out in three minutes. Find Welsh, tell him that Dog and Fox need to be ready to move if they get the order."

"Yes, sir."

The drive through the forests filled everyone with curiosity as to where they were heading, except for those who overheard Frank Perconte's vague and hurried description; those people were tense and concerned as to what exactly Easy men found. Perconte then pointed to what they found in one of the few clearings in the forest. As soon as the camp came into sight, most of the men tensed and weren't quite sure what they were seeing.

"Jesus," Spina commented as the medics saw the camp. Nixon came up and talked to Roe as the rest of the medics gathered in a group, looking around in horror. Lillian's stomach plummeted; she knew that they hadn't found something good when Frank told them his description, and she was uneasy, but she never thought it was going to this bad. The stench of this camp, the way these men looked … it sent chills down Lillian's entire body.

"Alright, Captain Nixon says that we treat anyone and everyone that needs anything. There's an empty spot of land, right over there. That's where we'll set up and start treating everyone. We don't know what we're going to be up against, so just brace yourselves," Roe explained to them. "I want you to travel in twos and just start with line of people right there and go down until we get everyone. Lillian, with me."

"Eugene," Lillian said, going up to Roe, "that smell—?"

"That's why you bury bodies six feet under," he said, somberly. Lillian looked back at the camp in horror as Roe pointed to the other medics to start assessing the people and see how bad the situation was. The soldiers walked through the gates of the camp as soon as Christenson and Perconte opened the gates.

"Christenson, any of your men speak German?" she heard Winters ask.

"No, sir," Christenson replied.

"I need Liebgott. Liebgott! Lipton—find Liebgott," Winters ordered.

"Yes sir, Liebgott!" Lipton called out and moved through the men to get to him. Once Lillian broke free of the giant sea of men, her face paled, and her eyes widened.

"Oh my God," Lillian muttered.

"What's wr—?" Roe asked, looking to where she was looking but stopped. He swallowed uneasily, watching all the people coming out of the cabins. There were more than just fifty … this was more than a few hundred easily, maybe a thousand. Lillian had never dealt with, or seen this many obviously dying men.

"Eugene, have you seen this many—?" Lillian asked, completely shocked, but Roe shook his head.

"Nope. You?" Roe asked, but Lillian just shook her head as well.

"No … not even close," Lillian replied, quieter than before. She put her Red Cross helmet on and exhaled.

For what seemed like an eternity, Lillian only saw a sea of blue and dirty white stripes and gold stars; it just didn't stop. She became practically mechanical. Seeing their arms and legs, bone with skin and the skinniest she had ever seen, made her stomach churn and her blood boil. She could not imagine how someone would be able to deliberately kill these men in one of the worst and most disgusting ways. Some prisoners were in better shape than others, if you could even think that. Certainly none of these men were in good shape to begin with. Lillian could see the ribcages of just about every man she saw, the bones in their tattooed arms, legs and face, and the almost lifeless eyes.

Even though most were joyful and beyond words to express gratitude for liberating the camp, Lillian could see that their eyes held all of the pains and burdens that they had dealt with for however long they were in the camp. She could see Joe Liebgott interpreting a conversation between a prisoner and the officers. It didn't look like they were learning anything that made sense about the camp's existence.

"Lillian," Roe said, "can you go 'round the camp and see how the others are doin' and who else needs treatment? I can take care of anyone else who comes down here." Lillian nodded, slowly.

"Sure. And I'll see if the COs have learned anything more," Lillian replied, grabbing her musette bag and cleaning up the open supplies she was just using. She stood up as Winters came over to Nixon who had been watching Roe and Lillian for the past five minutes.

"I'm gonna call Sink. Find Speirs and find out how the hell to get them some food, and water," Winters said angrily as he walked away to go radio Battalion HQ. Nixon nodded, almost in a daze. Lillian massaged her forehead, closed her eyes and exhaled. She then walked further into the camp to see what could be done and who needed help.

Lillian had walked around the entire camp before the late afternoon, helping both prisoners and soldiers alike. Some of the soldiers were sitting in the ditches, just aghast and horrified by what they were seeing. She comforted them to the best of her abilities before moving on. Upon walking by Lipton and Liebgott, she overheard that these men were being held here because they were Jewish. All because of race; was that the only reason why Hitler waged war on the world? To eradicate the Jewish people? Lipton asked Liebgott if he was okay, and Liebgott replied something along the lines of "fucking peachy Lip" before Lillian moved on to the next cabin.

"Liebgott!" Lillian heard Nixon call as she came back to the front of the camp.

"Yes, sir?" Liebgott asked.

"We have to stop giving these people food and put them back in the camp," Nixon explained, soberly. Lillian turned around at that. Liebgott's face dropped at that, but then he looked away.

"I can't tell them that, sir," he said, shaking his head.

"You've got to Joe," Winters said to him. Liebgott looked up at Winters, who he knew couldn't be pleased with this either. After a moment, he nodded his head and muttered a barely audible, "Yes, sir," before walking off to the truck that was giving out the food. Lillian turned to find Colonel Sink on the scene talking to a major. She jogged over to him.

"Colonel! Colonel Sink!" the Colonel turned around and was pleasantly surprised at the voice that was calling him.

"Lieutenant," Sink greeted, surprise evident in his tone. Lillian saluted him swiftly. "How are you? I haven't seen you since I assigned you to the five-oh-six."

"I'm fine, thank you. But sir, why are we stopping the distribution? These men are in dire need of—" Lillian began.

"They're starving, Lieutenant," the major replied, seriously. Her head swiveled in his direction, "We give them too much to eat too quickly," Lillian's eyes closed for a brief second and then she sighed angrily.

"They'll eat themselves to death," Lillian finished, shaking her head.

"This is Dr. Kent, Regimental Surgeon. Dr. Kent," Sink introduced, "this is Lieutenant Jenkins, nurse transferred to the five-oh-six." Dr. Kent and Lillian shook hands.

"I don't like it any more than you, believe me," Dr. Kent began, shaking his head, which Lillian nodded to, "but if we don't supervise their food intake and medical treatment, they will die. We need to keep them centralized."

"Of course, sir," Lillian nodded, "I just can't believe I didn't think of that at first. Forgive my interruption—"

"It's alright. I'm sure you are a fine nurse, but you wouldn't've known unless you had liberated a camp like this before," Dr. Kent explained, shaking his head. "And I sincerely hope you don't have to use that knowledge ever again after today." Lillian turned around to see that the men were trying to put the prisoners back in the camp.

"Excuse me, sir. I should go help them," Lillian said before saluting the major, who returned the salute.

"Good luck Lieutenant," he said. Lillian nodded before heading towards the camp. She had no idea how to say "camp" in German, but she decided just to tell the prisoners that they needed to go back and that she was sorry. She hoped they understood how sorry she truly was.

"Es tut mir leit," _I'm sorry. _Lillian said, "Sie müssen zurück gehen." _You have to go back. _It worked for a few minutes, until she came across one particular prisoner who kept trying to leave the camp.

"Sie müssen zurück gehen," she said, tiredly. The prisoner fervently shook his head.

"Nein! Nein!" The man cried, trying to push her out of his way. He kept yelling, too quickly for Lillian to understand much. But he was angry. Unfortunately, she agreed with him in his anger. She was furious and believed no one could ever atone for such a horrible place.

"Sie versuchen zu helfen. Wir helfen, aber Sie müssen zurück gehen." _They're trying to help. We're helping, but you need to go back. _Lillian repeated herself several times, but this man just kept going. He was furious and yelling. Malarkey, watching from the jeep that was previously giving out food, turned to see Lillian talking or arguing with one of the prisoners. He couldn't really make out what was being said and her facial expressions because some of the taller men passed her.

"Wir versuchen, Ihr Leben zu retten!" _We're trying to save your life! _Lillian said.

"Nein, das machen Sie nicht!" _No, they're not! _The man cried, shaking his head, and he glared at her. "Was weißt du von unseren Besorgnissen?" _What do you know of our concerns? _"Du bist nur eine idiotische spottbillige Miststück!" the prisoner spat at Lillian, loudly. She froze, and chills shot down her spine at the words. Lillian's eyes widened slightly in horror, her mouth was ajar, and her breathing had become shallow as the man continued to stare at her.

She couldn't think of anything except when she had heard those words before. Lillian whispered, "Es tut mir leit," before turning away from the crowd. She retreated to the trucks. Malarkey saw her face, and he knew something was wrong. He swung himself off the jeep and started to make his way through. The man walked off after one of the MPs urged him on. Lillian felt sick to her stomach, and she wanted to get away from the men—now. Lillian kept moving away from the camp, but Malarkey stepped in her way.

"Lillian, are you—?" Malarkey asked.

"Yes, Don. I'm fine." Lillian replied, automatically. She went to move, but Malarkey stood in her way. She didn't make eye contact with him and continued to hide her face.

"Are you sure?" Malarkey asked, again.

"Yes," Lillian answered almost desperately, trying to go, but Malarkey once again stopped her.

"You don't look it Lillian," Malarkey started, shaking his head.

"Don, do me a favor, and just—leave me alone!" Lillian yelled, pushing him out of the way.

Malarkey tripped backward a little bit, but caught himself to see Lillian walk away briskly, hiding her face from everyone. Malarkey felt conflicted. He felt like he should go run after her and persist more, but he had never seen her like that before. He had no idea what that prisoner had said to her to make her so upset, and he wanted to know, but when his mother got that upset at home, his dad suggested giving her space. All he could do though was stand there, torn about what he should do.

Winters, tuning out Nixon's conversations with one of the COs, saw Lillian push Malarkey out of her way and storm away. He immediately noticed that something was wrong. Her usually calm and pretty face was hidden and tightened in anger, and her pace and posture showed obvious tension. Winters could only wonder what or who had made her angry. So, he took advantage of one of his only free moments since entering the camp and walked over to where she sat on the edge of a truck bed. Nixon, about to turn and talk to his friend, was surprised he wasn't there. He looked around, confused until he saw him talking to Lillian. He walked forward until he could hear them, but hesitated to interrupt their one-one. He leaned against the back of a jeep and listened.

"Jenkins. Are you alright?" Winters asked her, his eyebrows raised in concern.

"Yes, Major, I'm fine," Lillian assured him, unconvincingly however.

"Nice try. Answer me seriously this time: what's wrong?" Winters asked as Lillian looked downward before looking back up, becoming slightly fidgety with her arms. Winters noticed the curved, downward scar on her bare left forearm and looked back at her.

"There's nothing wrong, sir."

"Lieutenant—"

"Sir, I swear—"

"Jenkins, don't give me that—"

"Fine. Let me rephrase myself: it's not your concern, sir," Lillian answered angrily, glaring at him. That took Winters by surprise. Nixon knew that wasn't the right answer to give a superior officer in any situation. However, Nixon knew at this point Winters had feelings for Lillian. Whether it was purely brotherly or more romantic, he wasn't sure because he had seen both from his friend, but she should _not _have answered Winters like that. The look on Winters' face confirmed both thoughts for Nixon.

"Not my concern? Really? Well, it _is _my concern because if you want to stay with Easy company, you _will _answer your superior officer," Winters replied, his mouth tightening in anger. Lillian looked away, as if she were a spoiled child who didn't want to be punished. Nixon took note of his friend's building rage, but thought it best not to say anything. Lillian looked up into Winters' eyes. She was holding something back, and she was trying so hard not to let it out. Winters' persistence and angry, loud tone only made it worse, however.

"So, _answer _me Jenkins. _What _is wrong?"

"Why don't you ask some of the men, because you're probably not THE ONLY ONE WHO WANTS TO KNOW!" Lillian yelled in his face, becoming louder as she went on. The men nearby, who weren't previously watching the scene unfold, were definitely paying attention now. "I have to go help Eugene … _excuse me _Major."

Winters' eyes had gone wide, and Lillian stormed down the road back to town. That had never happened before. As far as the men of Easy company knew, Lillian had never yelled, never mind in such an angry manner, at anyone. In fact, they were pretty confident that they had never seen her angry at all. She was usually happy given the circumstances and could easily cheer anyone up. The way she was acting and how she looked surprised anyone that was watching. It was practically the same story for Winters. The men of Easy could count on one hand how many times they had seen him really angry. But, no one had ever retaliated in this type of manner. Winters was respected and known throughout most of the companies as one of the greatest leaders in the 101st. Not many people saw any good reason to yell at the man. Winters stood there, hands on his hips, looked down, and sighed.

"Nixon!" he called, not knowing his friend was behind him.

"Yeah Dick?" Nixon asked. Winters turned around, surprised to find him there.

"Did you see—?" Winters began to ask, but Nixon cut him off.

"I didn't catch anything except for when she was yelling at—" Nixon explained, shaking his head.

"That doesn't help Nix," Winters cut him off, agitatedly.

"Jenkins yelling at Malarkey doesn't help you to find out why she just had a cow? Really?" Nixon questioned. Winters eyed his friend and thought for a moment.

"I want Malarkey—right now," Winters demanded.

"Sure thing, Dick," Nixon replied cautiously, nodding his head. He walked a little ways and called, "Malarkey! Major Winters wants you here, now." Malarkey looked at the men who he was talking with and then jogged over.

"Sirs?" Malarkey asked, feeling a bit nervous. He witnessed what had happened, and he wasn't sure what Winters was going to ask of him.

"Malarkey, did Lieutenant Jenkins yell at you?" Winters asked, his voice returning to an even and calmer tone. Malarkey nodded his head after a moment.

"Yes, sir," he exhaled.

"Why? What happened?"

"Something was—is wrong with her, sir. I tried to ask her about it, to see if I could help, but she told me nothing was wrong. I asked again, same thing. I asked one more time, she yelled at me and pushed me out of her way," Malarkey explained as Winters looked down and nodded. "Sir, if this helps, she was talking with one of the prisoners before I went over to her. I went over because the guy said something to her, and she just stopped talking."

"Talking with one of the prisoners?" Winters repeated, replaying what Malarkey explained in his head. He crossed his arms across his chest in contemplation. "Wouldn't that mean—?"

"She'd have to speak German?" Nixon finished for Winters, who nodded, thinking the same thing. Winters looked back at the jeeps where Lillian was fixing or doing something with her musette bag.

"She can speak German, sir. Well, a little, I don't really know how well. But she understood something," Malarkey attested. Winters thought for only a moment more.

"Nix, I'll be back." Before Nixon could say anything, Winters had walked off. Nixon and Malarkey watched him go and exchanged a look.

"Sir, is Major Winters alright?" Malarkey asked Nixon. Nixon nodded after a moment, watching Winters paid no heed to the other soldiers who were passing by and saluting him and walking straight out of the camp.

"Yeah … he's known her a while, he's a family friend, and he's just concerned," Nixon explained. Malarkey nodded slowly before he was dismissed. Lillian had stopped by one of the jeeps farthest away from the camp entrance. Winters walked slowly over to her. Lillian looked up at her superior, not having lost any of the emotion that he had seen a few minutes ago.

"Tell me," Winters demanded, but quieter than before. Lillian cocked an eyebrow, questioningly.

"Tell you what exactly, sir?" Lillian asked, testing her limits with her tone and implications.

"You know what," he replied, keeping his voice even. Winters nodded to her left arm. "I saw your scar. As far as I know, nurses don't get injuries like that spending a day in the hospital." Lillian looked down at her now concealed arm and glared at Winters. "And, I know you certainly didn't learn German back home because your parents would _not _have allowed that," Winters said, rather seriously. Lillian's weight shifted, and she looked downward. "It's just the two of us," Winters said, trying to get her to talk, but seeing no response, he added hesitantly, "Lily, please." Lillian lifted her eyes to his at the sound of her old nickname. "Tell me what's wrong." She didn't answer him for a while.

"The scar … it came from a prisoner," Lillian answered, defeated. "Back in Italy, there was a prisoner snatch, and two were wounded—two others had died. They immediately sent them to us, so we could get them to survive until they could be interrogated. Two SS soldiers. Since I was the only nurse who knew any German in the 94th, I was assigned to watch them, just in case they started to talk. It didn't matter that I could barely understand the damned language, but, they _did _start to talk. They were talking something about codes and their superior. I told my CO about it, and she told me to keep her posted on anything else I could understand."

Lillian had not looked at Winters when she was talking. He could see the pain and disgust of the memory that she was reliving. She looked upward towards the sky and looked around the forest and camp.

"One of the prisoners was complaining about his pain in German one day. He was disrupting and waking up the other patients, so I told him, stupid of me, _in German _that I would give him some morphine to ease the pain and help him sleep. They both looked at me positively flabbergasted—I just assumed that he didn't expect me to speak German. I'm pretty sure he asked me how long I had been in the hospital, and how I knew German. I thought he was being _friendly_. How naïve I was." Lillian shook her head.

"I told him three months, and tried to explain about my friend who taught me, but I really only can talk about medical things. So, as I'm getting my syringe ready, the other soldier grabbed me from behind," Lillian blinked involuntarily as she could remember those strong, large arms and hands that encompassed her waist and held her arms. "And he whispered …" Lillian licked her lips and shook her head. He could hear his raspy voice in her ear, and she could feel his hot breath tickling the back of her neck.

"Was it the same thing that one of these prisoners said to you?" Winters asked.

"How do you know about the prisoner?" Lillian questioned.

"Was it or wasn't it the same?" Winters reiterated his question in a firm voice.

"Idiotische spottbillige Miststück," Lillian whispered after a moment. "That's what both men said. But that wasn't all the he did."

"The man here?" Winters asked.

"No, in Italy," Lillian clarified, and Winters nodded. Lillian very vividly remembered the white hot pain, but chilling sensation accompanying it quickly flying down her arm as she yelled in pain. "He … had taken my scalpel when I wasn't looking, and the scar was where he cut. I still don't know if it was intentional or not, but when he pushed me down so he and his friend could make their escape, the scalpel plunged into my shoulder blade, the right one."

Lillian remembered barely breaking her fall and not damaging herself more. She unconsciously rolled back her shoulder as she continued, "I saw my wound on my arm and quickly went to grab something to stop the bleeding because … it wouldn't stop. It just wouldn't stop bleeding."

She remembered trying to find something to stop the vibrant red blood from oozing down her arm. She ended up grabbing a flimsy piece of paper that covered the small bedside stand, and she pressed and wrapped it tightly on her arm.

"I turn around to see where they went and call for help, but then I heard gunshots. The two prisoners were on the floor, yelling in pain. I looked up to see that my CO had shot them in the knees, a non-fatal injury so that they could still be interrogated."

_Marie Fillion held the gun in her hand steadily, her arm did not falter, and her eyes were fixed on them with absolute fury. Marie looked up to see Lillian as the MPs came in. Marie's eyes widened, and she then threw the gun aside, beginning to run over to Lillian._

"I had never seen such determination and fury in those eyes, and that scared me, but from that day on, I admired her for her willingness to act. My friend came up to me, and that's all I really remember. They told me afterward that I had fainted from the blood loss."

Lillian swallowed slowly and uneasily before exhaling shakily, creating a silence that made Winters' emotions run wild as he watched her. "You want to know something else, sir? I found out from my CO, after I woke up, that the only reason why that happened is because the SS men thought I had learned about their unit's plan to take down one of the US bases not far from the hospital, which I didn't know. The MPs managed to transport them to a more secure place and interrogate them while they were chained to their hospital beds."

Winters looked away and then looked back at Lillian, not sure what to say. "Satisfied?" Lillian asked, somewhat harshly, but her eyes gave away her hurt.

"No. No, I'm not," Winters said, quietly. Lillian turned to look at Winters with tear-filled eyes. She didn't know how to take what he said.

The moment was broken, however, when Winters was called for. Both of them knew they had to move and get back to what they were originally doing. Lillian turned away and pretended to be putting her medical supplies away in her musette bag. Winters hesitated a moment before turning back towards the camp. Lillian turned back around and watched him go back into the camp. For some reason, she expected more than just that. Richard Winters knew her too well. She knew that he knew she needed space. She sighed and massaged her temples before she grabbed her musette bag and walked back towards the camp to see if Roe needed assistance with anything.

Winters, after finishing his conversation with Colonel Sink, hesitated on calling for someone. He wasn't sure if he was going to like the answer; if Lillian didn't tell him what those German words meant, it had to be something she knew he wouldn't want to hear. Well, the first word sounded like his grandpa calling someone an idiot, so that was one word possibly. But the other two words he couldn't think of any word in English that sounded similar. Winters made up his mind and went further into the camp. He had not seen her that shaken up before. Whatever that man said, made her relive that horrible memory and made her act like that, and it pained Winters to see that. It pained him like when he saw his men distraught and hopeless over a dead comrade, but … it was somehow even stronger than that. Different too. He couldn't quite explain it, but he needed to find out what was said.

"Liebgott!" Winters called to him before beckoning him. Joe jumped off the Jeep he was on and walked over to Winters.

"Sir?"

"Joe, can you translate something?" Winters asked Joe. He nodded.

"Sure, sir. What is it?" Joe asked Winters.

"Uh, spott-something, spottilch?" Joe thought about it for a moment with a puzzled face.

"Spottbillig, sir?" Joe asked. Winters nodded.

"Yeah, that was it, and uh, mist-stuck?" Winters asked.

"Miststück? Spottbillige Miststück? Jeez," Joe said.

"Yes, what does that mean?" Winters demanded.

"Nothing nice, sir. It means 'dirty' or 'filthy bitch'." Joe explained. Winters' face dropped as the words came out of Joe's mouth.

The 101st was glad to be leaving the camp in the hands of the 10th Armored and heading on to Thalem, Germany. It was just another place, another town they had to stop in and take control. A group of locals had pulled four chairs from the rubble and were playing a somber, calming piece of classical music in the middle of the smoking, saddened, destroyed town square of Thalem. People were moving around, clearing everything from piles of rubble, young and old men and women. Piling whatever seemed undamaged enough to keep in carts, whether it was chairs with cushions still on them, broken tables, pieces of bedroom furniture, you name it, and it was there. The MPs were organizing the cleanup and keeping everyone in line along with asking for and giving information and instructions.

"Tell you thing about the Krauts, they sure clean up good." Lillian heard Luz comment as she walked up to the destroyed building some of them had occupied themselves in, just watching.

"Yeah."

"Hi boys, enjoying the view?" Lillian asked, coming in and taking a seat by Webster and Randleman.

"To say the least," Luz replied to Lillian's question.

"Hey Nurse Lil," Perconte greeted her.

"Anyone injured down there?" Webster asked her.

"Did you help them?" Perconte also asked, turning to her.

"Two people with a broken bone or two. A few scratches and cuts. Nothing too serious." Lillian shrugged. "It's pretty calm out there right now,"

"All you need's a little Mozart." Liebgott commented.

"Beethoven," Nixon said as he walked in, and he looked better, or better than he had been in a while. That's what Lillian thought; not many of the men really knew, but they saw something was different about him. However, over the past couple of weeks, Lillian had learned plenty about Lewis Nixon. Some parts, she wasn't even sure what to make of; Lillian was certain though, as long as she kept quiet, things wouldn't get out of hand. She kept quiet, and nothing did. Lillian, listening to the music, nodded. It had been so long she heard Beethoven … she had forgotten what it sounded like.

"Sorry sir?" Liebgott asked.

"That's not Mozart. That's Beethoven," Nixon said, nodding his head. They continued to watch for a little while longer before Nixon, out of nowhere, said, "Hitler's dead." Every head went up and looked to Nixon.

"Holy shit," Liebgott commented, who spoke for everyone.

"Shot himself in Berlin," Nixon elaborated.

"Is the war over, sir?" Randleman asked, speaking for everyone's next thought.

"No. We have orders to go to Berchtesgaden and move out in one hour," Nixon explained. The men all looked at each other and stood up.

"Why, the man's not home," Webster protested. "Should've killed himself three years ago. He would've saved us a lot of trouble," Webster commented, dejectedly.

"Yeah, he should've … but he didn't," Nixon agreed, letting Lillian walk down the stairs before him.


	5. Inquiry Begins

**Chapter 5: Inquiry Begins**

_May 1945—July 1945_

_Bavaria—Austria_

"Well, they wanted to give us a guerrilla war; blocking the roads is one helluva way to do it," Spina commented to Roe.

Lillian just shook her head in amazement at the effort of the SS' resistance as she leaned forward to see what the soldiers were attempting to do. The road had been blocked by rocks that easily looked like they weighed more than ton and older, fatter trees. After a few minutes of just looking at the giant monstrosity in their way, the men began to relax and wait as Winters called for engineers to clear it up. Lillian jumped out of the truck to go and talk with some of the other men as some soldiers tried to clear the rubble with a grenade, that shook the ground, but proved to be unsuccessful.

"When are we expecting the engineers to arrive?" Winters asked, leaning his head back and closing his eyes, letting the sun warm his face.

"Half an hour ago," Nixon replied, not sounding too pleased.

"We're stuck here until they do Nix," Winters said, leaning his head back farther, seeming to not particularly care at the moment. Nixon gave him a look.

"Well, if you're the SS you're not gonna let us waltz into Hitler's house. Probably throw a few rocks at us yourself," Nixon commented, pointing at the block with his left hand. Lillian went up to Winters and Nixon.

"How's your wrist holding up, Captain Nixon?" Lillian asked.

"Eh, doing better," Nixon replied. "I'm just glad I can move it out of that damn sling." Lillian chuckled. "Thanks again for letting me take it off early, Jenkins."

"He took it off early?" Winters asked, looking at Lillian. "I thought he had to have it on for a certain time?"

"He did, Major Winters. His bone is healing nicely, and Captain Nixon has been taking care of it," Lillian explained, which made Nixon smile and nudge his friend to emphasize his achievements. "So, I left it on for an extra day to be safe about my decision; about four days before he was going to have it removed. He should be fine with no splint by mid-May." Winters nodded. "I'm glad to see you're doing better, sir. Have a good day," Lillian saluted both officers before leaving.

"Hey Lillian!"

"Hi Don," Malarkey leaned over the top of the truck.

"Can you—?" Malarkey started, pointing at the block.

"Hardly," Lillian replied, shaking her head.

"Someone doesn't want us to get in." Malarkey commented as a larger and stronger explosion went off, which caused many to look back at the smoking heap of rocks. "And we're not at this rate,"

"Not anytime soon until we get engineers," Lillian agreed.

"Easy company!" Speirs boomed, "We're moving out!"

"See you later Don," Lillian called to him as she ran back to her truck. He waved and said goodbye before helping some of the guys get back onto the truck. Within minutes, the men were walking cautiously through Berchtesgaden, the light wind making them a little uneasy at how quiet and how empty the town was. You couldn't hear anything except their footsteps and the engines of the jeeps. It was too eerie for their liking.

"Lillian, put on your helmet and hair back. Just act like one of the men," Roe explained quickly and quietly as they stepped off their truck and began to walk.

"Why?" Lillian asked suspiciously, putting on her helmet.

"I've seen a scene like this one too many times, and I know what could happen," Roe explained simply as Lillian put her ponytail in the helmet before tightening the straps.

"Jesus Roe, are you trying to jinx us or something?" Luz asked.

"Just being cautious," Roe replied. No one really talked after that, a few of the officers did after a while because they needed to give out some orders and get some clarifications on locations of HQ and OPs. After that, it was okay. People were talking and moving around and going about their business. Easy was ordered to capture the Eagle's Nest, and the boys were ecstatic, to say the least. They were gone about an hour and a half before a jeep pulled in front of the aid station.

"Nurse Jenkins?" Lillian turned around to face a young soldier in front of a jeep.

"Yes?" she asked, walking towards him from the group of medics.

"Ma'am, I've been given orders from Colonel Sink to escort you to the Eagle's Nest," he explained, standing at attention. Lillian looked back at Roe who was just as surprised by the order.

"I'll see you in a while Eugene," Lillian said as she climbed into the jeep.

"Alright," he said, giving her a small smile.

The jeep sped off, leaving Roe in the dust to walk back into the house. Lillian was tempted to ask why she was being called upon, but thought it best just to wait. The soldier probably didn't have a clue either. She shook her head and smiled, however, thinking of the most ridiculous possibilities and scenarios that could be waiting for her when she got to the Eagle's Nest. It was nothing that she had expected. It was so big, far bigger than her own home, and it made her anxious because the Eagle's Nest reminded her vaguely of the Pennsylvania home she left behind. She couldn't tell if it was just the grandness of the place, or if it was the feel of the house; its aura, the cold and desolate atmosphere. Lillian eyed her surroundings wearily as the soldier brought her up a few set of staircases. She could hear a few voices, ones she recognized.

"Thank you, sir," Lipton said.

"Wait outside for a moment Lipton, I want you to come with me after …" Winters said, but his voice trailed off as soon as he saw Lillian in the door.

"Sirs," Lillian greeted, saluting them. Looking around the room, it appeared to have belonged to a woman because of all of the clothes in the open closet, and the dresser heavily decorated with various feminine items that Lillian had been accustomed to wearing back in America.

"Lieutenant Jenkins, I'm glad you came," Sink began, walking up to her. "I've heard from several people that you've been a good help throughout your career."

"Thank you Colonel Sink," Lillian said, thankful for the acknowledgement although confused as to why he was telling her now.

"You've helped our soldiers get through this goddamned war, especially the five-oh-six in its most recent and important hours, and they're celebrating by collecting souvenirs." He opened his arm to the room, "Take what you would like." Lillian's eyes widened in surprised.

"Thank you sir, but I'm—"

"Jenkins, don't you even give me that nonsense," Sink warned. Lillian's open mouth closed against further argument. "Take what you want, and don't leave anything for whoever will be comin' in after us,"

"Yes, thank you sir," Sink left with a satisfied smirk after returning Lillian's salute.

"Happy V-E Day Lieutenant," Winters congratulated, on his way out with Lipton.

"V-E Day, sir?" Lillian questioned, confused as to what that was supposed to stand for.

"Victory in Europe," Lipton explained. Lillian's eyes narrowed in confusion.

"The German Army surrendered this morning," Winters explained, smiling at his best friend's sister. Lillian's face relaxed immensely, and she smiled in disbelief and amazement.

"Happy V-E Day, Major, Lieutenant Lipton," Lillian said.

"Let us know if you need a jeep to carry what you need, Lieutenant," Winters called to her.

"I'll be fine, sir thank you," she called back to him, a smile growing on their faces, unbeknownst to the other. Lillian shook her head and exhaled.  
><em><br>"Well, _how _am I going to carry—?" _Lillian looked around the room and saw a wicker basket next to the bed with a bottle of champagne in it.

"Good enough," she shrugged, taking out the bottle and the wrapping inside the basket.

Lillian folded and placed everything in the basket precisely. Before totally disregarding the bottle and leaving the room, Lillian looked at the bottle. She didn't drink usually, but V-E Day was a cause of celebration after all. Lillian smiled to herself and thought it better suit as a gift to a certain someone who did drink, however. Hopefully, he drank champagne. She grabbed a piece of paper and folded into two before writing something quickly down. Satisfied with her work, she shut the door and proceeded down the halls and down the stairs, out of the Eagle's Nest … and if she took a few other things along the way for two others, who would notice? It took her a few minutes to get down to ground level and back where the boys were, but as soon as she saw people she knew—

"Is OP 2 down here?" Lillian asked.

"That's right, Nurse Jenkins. Fourth house on the left."

"Thanks." She jogged down the street, basket and champagne bottle in hand, past three houses and up into OP 2. There was almost no one in there, so she just left it on a table by the door with the note on top of the cork.

"Now back to the aid station to unload," Lillian sighed and jogged back up. As soon as she walked in, she heard the guys laughing. Everyone had smiles on their face.

"Germany surrendered!" Spina proclaimed. "I have never felt this happy!" Lillian laughed.

"Hey Lillian, have a nice trip up to the Eagle's Nest?" Roe asked, but eyeing her basket, he added, "Nice souvenirs."

"Colonel's orders," Lillian shrugged. "My trip up to the Eagle's Nest."

"Really? It looks nice," Roe said with a smile. "You deserve it though,"

"So do you two, which is why," Lillian explained, putting the basket down and searching through her pockets, "I brought you these." Both Roe and Spina's eyes widened as they took their pocketknives. "Courtesy of Hitler and the Third Reich, property of the Eagle's Nest. Just in case those scissors don't work."

"Thanks Lillian," they both said to her before they hugged her.

"Damn, this is a nice pocketknife," Spina commented, walking back to a room to put it away. Both Lillian and Roe chuckled.

"Speaking of deserving presents and things like that, apparently, there's gonna be a celebration party tonight, twenty-one hundred. I don't if it was Talbert or Lipton who initiated it, the stories are getting too confusing, but there's gonna be party at the restaurant up the street. You can come if you want," Roe explained as Lillian nodded, "but I'm warning you. Everyone's bringing their liquor, and their getting locals from the surrounding villages to come along," Lillian laughed and shook her head before Roe continued on.

"I'll come," Lillian said before disappearing around the corner to put her basket down. "But that means we better start unpacking, right?"

"Not really, we're movin' into Austria tomorrow mornin'," Roe explained.

"Austria?" Lillian asked, reappearing.

"Happy V-E Day," Roe shrugged as the two of them smiled.

* * *

><p>"Hey Malark, there's something for you over there," Perconte said to him as Malarkey walked in the door. Malarkey turned to the table that Perconte was pointing at, and curiously looked at his present. He took the note on top of the bottle of champagne and looked at the brand, raising his eyebrows in amazement. New champagne for him to try, but from who? The smile that was plastered on his face since he received the news that Easy was going to capture the Eagle's Nest just widened at the little note.<p>

_To Don,_

_A thank you for being a friend when I was a replacement._

_Here's to our friendship and to the end of the war._

_Lillian_

* * *

><p>Lillian zippered the back of the dress, and moved to the mirror to see herself. With the little light from the room later that evening, she thought the pale blue dress that she took from Hitler's Nest suited her body well. Lillian, tired of having her hair being tied up, had taken it out of the bun. The natural waves that came from the bun suited Lillian's look. The shower, precision and tightness of her bun came with the results she had hoped. Finally, instead of wearing boots, Lillian had put on a nice pair of silver heels. She of course had to clip her toenails and shave her legs, which she had to admit was harder and more challenging than she had expected. She figured finding some type of clippers and a knife should've been the easy part, but she had been very wrong. She had even found some nice makeup in the bureau. All in all, the outfit made Lillian feel and look like a woman.<p>

She smiled to herself, pleased with her work before walking out to the little restaurant where the men of the 101st Airborne were to have their celebration. It felt so unusual yet natural for her to be walking in those heels and in a dress. She hadn't worn either in what felt like years or even bothered to leave her hair down for more than a minute. She was just so accustomed to wearing a uniform, she hadn't really cared about her appearance. Just as long as she could work in what she wore, with her hair out of the way, she was a perfectly capable, functioning nurse.

All of the men were there, and most of them had actually gotten dates. The men were dressed proudly in their uniforms, so the ladies definitely couldn't say no. She felt a twinge of nervousness strike in her stomach; how would the men perceive her? Too bold—without a date, looking like this? Or would they be fine with it? Sure, she had been one of the first people to know about it, but none of the men had asked to escort her. She wasn't going to miss out on this, however. Lillian needed to loosen up and relax.

All of the nurses in her training group always commented about her being the most serious and modest out of all them. She was the mother hen, making sure they knew what had to be done first and what to do in times of crisis. Being that in Italy and Algeria and treating countless numbers of wounded men on both sides of the battlefield, she felt she earned the right to go to a dance, even if it was without a partner or escort. She left her home and life because she didn't want to wait for opportunities to come to her. She'd go looking for them instead. She went out and changed her perspective by herself, and she was going to stay true to that. However, walking in, Lillian wasn't expecting the reactions she heard and saw.

"Well, good gracious Jenkins, you continue to amaze us." Lillian recognized that voice—that was definitely Lewis Nixon. She found him accompanied with no one else but Richard Winters, both smiling. Lillian smiled with a chuckle as the two men came over. "Doesn't this lovely lady have an escort?"

"You're certainly the charmer, sir," Lillian commented.

"You can drop the formalities—Lewis," Nixon said, waving it off.

"Lillian," she said, accepting his proposal.

"Now, since you are without a man, why not take one of the 101st's finest officers?" Nixon proposed, pushing Winters forward.

"Nixon," Winters started.

"You'll thank me later Dick," Nixon quickly whispered in his ear before smiling his debonair and mischievous smile. "Have fun!" He winked at Lillian before walking off. Both secretly loved the fact that Lewis Nixon did that, but they weren't sure as to how to express that in each other's presence.

Neither noticed that Donald Malarkey had watched everything from the moment Lillian Jenkins entered the pub. And by God, he had not seen a more beautiful sight. He had heard all of the comments being said around and behind him. "Is that Nurse Lillian?" "I had no idea she was so fine." "So George, where's my twenty?" "I forgot how easily women can pretty themselves up." "It's seeing a whole new person come out of her." For Malarkey, that wasn't true. He had already known she was pretty and different compared to other women he'd known. If she was in uniform or not, Malarkey saw the same beautiful, caring woman. And he watched his superior—who he had looked up to at points as a model and for guidance more than just in the field—walk towards a table with Lillian as the night's festivities began.

They had a band in that crammed restaurant, playing different songs. Some songs were very energetic and bouncy where any of them could dance a lively swing or a fun jitterbug, and some were mellow where they could dance a foxtrot or waltz.

"You know, I haven't danced in so long. I think I might've forgotten the steps," Lillian remarked, watching the countless Bavarian women dance with the men. Winters chuckled.

"With your memory, I highly doubt it," Winters said with a smile. "Me, on the other hand …"

"Oh, don't you dare say that, sir. You said at Oliver's party that you had no idea how to dance, and you came out onto that ballroom floor and showed _my brother _how to dance," Lillian said before both of them laughed. Winters raised his eyebrows and sighed.

"Would you like a drink? Just because I don't, doesn't mean you shouldn't get to have one," Winters said. Lillian shook her head.

"Nurses aren't supposed to drink. Besides, the first time I tried it I almost got sick, and I don't plan on repeating that experience anytime soon," Lillian replied. "So Major, did you get anything exciting at Berchtesgaden or the Eagle's Nest?"

Winters shrugged, "Some silverware, a couple other things. I wasn't really interested." Lillian laughed.

"Of course Major Winters has more important business to take care while at Hitler's home besides acquiring items because that's how damn good of a soldier he is," Lillian said, teasing him by sitting up straighter and drawling in an accent to sound like Colonel Sink. Winters shook his head, trying to repress laughter, but Lillian beat him to it, and she began to laugh. Winters then joined in for a moment; he forgotten how radiant she looked when she laughed. The last time he had seen her laugh, they were both still in Pennsylvania.

"Did you get all of that from the Eagle's Nest?" Winters asked.

"I did—luckily the woman who owned these previously is about my size in clothes and shoes," Lillian explained, folding her right leg over her left.

"I'm glad," Winters nodded, smiling.

"Thank you again Major," Lillian said.

"Richard," Winters corrected. She leaned up a little and smiled.

"Alright then, Richard," Lillian nodded. The music then changed to a very upbeat tune, maybe one of the most upbeat so far.

"Now this is what I'm talking about!" Luz exclaimed as others cheered.

Lillian smiled and laughed lightly, readjusting herself back in her seat as the guys who came up with their women, trying to teach or trying to dance; some women knew the steps, some of them didn't. Winters looked down at Lillian's feet and saw that she was doing the basic steps in her seat although her eyes were focused on the men on the dance floor. He knew she knew that dance. Winters made up his mind in that second, damning the consequences if there were to be any. He stood up and moved a bit closer to Lillian, extending his hand.

"Would you like to dance Lillian?" Lillian looked up at him in surprise.

"I would love to Richard," She placed her hand in his, and he spun her out on the floor, which drew everyone's attention immediately to her. She was taken aback by that, but couldn't react much to it because the next thing she knew Richard Winters, one of the most respected officers in the 506 PIR of the 101st Airborne, was dancing with her.

"By God—is that Dick Winters?" Nixon exclaimed, eyes wide and partially standing at his table with Speirs, smirking and Welsh, laughing.

It was interesting, watching the usually calm and serious officer dance like he was born to do it with a woman who certainly knew how to as well. The two moved their feet front-and-back and side-to-side with such style and rhythmic timing abilities. Their bodies moved like one, almost like they were miming each other. As Winters threw in some spins, more of the guys encouraged the couple by cheering them on.

"I never thought I'd see the day that Dick loosened up," Welsh commented. Nixon chuckled, smugly smirking as he raised his bottle to the two and downed the remainder of liquor.

"I haven't danced like this in years!" Lillian exclaimed, almost laughing, but with a smile that was so vibrant and catchy that almost all of the men had a smile on their face.

"Nor have I—the last time I did, it was with you!" Winters said to her, spinning again.

"At that charity banquet in forty-one?"

"Yes!" Winters replied.

They did the basic steps very modestly in comparison to the other moves, but as the music became a bit livelier, they jazzed it up with hands motions and moving past and around each other. The two had an aura about them like they were concocting what step to do next telepathically. They both did some kicking and one-handed dancing, and they repeated most of their steps twice or three times, adding something new each time.

All of a sudden, the music became louder, signaling the end, in which Winters and Lillian came back together and pulled a move no one in the room saw coming. Lillian's smile widened before they did it, but they spun once before they moved their hands to make an X. Then Lillian slid under Winters, through his legs; the entire room cheered and exclaimed in awe and surprise, but Winters managed to turn around, spin her, pull her back up and flip her in time for the song to end. The whole room erupted into applause, as both of them, now completely out of breath smiled shyly and walked off, laughing, with their arms around each other.

Unbeknownst to most in the restaurant, Malarkey had stood up and swiftly exited the building. He cursed to himself as soon as he got outside. That dance was the only thing in his mind, replaying itself over and over. She had given him champagne, but had he overestimated her feelings for him? Now his mind was whirling with doubtful thoughts about how far his relationship could advance with Lillian. However, looking back inside through the window, he saw her, Winters, and Nixon talking, having a grand ol' time. His eyes narrowed on his superior officer. He didn't have to dance, or with her for that matter. Winters hadn't been her escort until Nixon pushed him into it. And whether or not Winters was a family friend of Lillian's, that was no ordinary dance.

Lillian laughed harder at Nixon's comment on Winters' dance skills and behavior on the floor before saying, "Thank you for the dance Richard, excuse me a moment." She walked over towards the guys, looking around the crowd for Malarkey, but couldn't find him._ "Funny," _Lillian thought,_ "I just saw him a moment ago."_

"Looking for someone Nurse Lil?" Perconte asked, coming up to her, drink in hand.

"Yeah, Don actually, have you seen him?" Lillian asked, curiously.

"Malark? Hmm, I thought I saw him around here. Hey, hey George! Have you seen Malark?" Perconte asked, grabbing George as soon as he saw him. Luz looked around and shrugged.

"Sorry Nurse Lil," Luz shook his head.

"That's alright, you boys go have fun. I'm sure I'll find him." Lillian waved the two off before looking around the crowded space again. If he wasn't _in_side—Lillian then moved through the crowd and stepped into the cool night to find the man she was looking for. "Oh Don, there you are!"

"Hi Lillian," Malarkey greeted.

"What're you doing out here?" Lillian questioned.

"I just needed some fresh air from the tight atmosphere," Malarkey explained, rather vaguely.

"It's not that bad on the dance floor actually. It's probably more comfortable out there, even if you are dancing …" Lillian said, still feeling as if that dance with Winters had just been a mere concoction of her wildest imagination. Malarkey suppressed the urge to express his anger with an angry retort, and bit his lower lip in compensation.

"Speaking of, why haven't you danced yet? I was looking forward to a dance," Lillian put on a fake pout and batted her eyelashes at Don, but then laughed lightly, a smile returning to her face, in hopes of lightening Malarkey's mood.

"Well, it seems Major Winters has already filled your dance card," Malarkey said, rather casually. The way he said it struck Lillian as peculiar, and she gave him a questioning look. This wasn't normal.

"Are you okay—?"

Lillian was cut off by Malarkey saying, "Oh yeah, fine." nodding somewhat convincingly, "Actually, we should probably get back in before we're missed." On that note, Malarkey passed her and went inside. Lillian stood there for a moment, confused by what had just happened. She couldn't imagine what had caused the abrupt change in his attitude. Maybe it was because he was drinking … that could be the normal way he acts when drunk. Lillian didn't know, but she figured she'd better wait until the morning to find out.


	6. Accumulating Fears

_Thanks to Amanda and Liliesshadow for their reviews :)_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6: Accumulating Fears<strong>

Lillian shook out a sheet and began to fold it. Thankfully, Austria was proving to be one of the most resourceful countries she had been to. In taking over a nice, spacious building, the aid station had enough room to fit twice the amount of beds and wounded they could in Haguenau. It was a beautiful, breezy day. The sun wasn't too bright and perfectly warmed the little area the 506 had occupied. She could get used to this …

"Hey Nurse Lil! Doc got you folding sheets 'cause the aid station's so empty?" Lillian looked up at Frank Perconte and smiled.

"I take it as a good distraction," Lillian replied. However, seeing the rest of the group of men walking towards them, she added, "You boys heading out somewhere?"

"Got a distraction of our own," Perconte explained, putting his rifle over his shoulder.

"Christ Frank, you'd think you're in love with the girl you ran so fast," Ramirez commented exasperatedly and greeted Lillian, "Hey Nurse Lil."

"Hi Joe, Frank was just telling me you boys are going somewhere," Lillian said. "Care to elaborate?"

"We're gonna go hunting," Malarkey replied as the rest of them caught up. Lillian nodded.

"Shifty's gonna shoot us some dinner," Randleman further explained, nudging towards the shy Virginia native that she had not met. She put the folded sheets in the basket she had found in an abandoned room and walked towards Shifty Powers.

"Shifty? I haven't seen you in the aid station before," she began.

"Haven't been injured, ma'am," Shifty explained.

"Oh, please, Nurse Jenkins," she said, shaking her head.

"Or Nurse Lil," Ramirez added.

"Or Lillian," Malarkey put in.

"Just not Second Lieutenant Jenkins," Liebgott said, shaking his head.

"Or ma'am," Randleman finished. She eyed all their smirking faces before they burst into laughter.

"Yes, well, it's nice to meet you Shifty. Can I call you that?" she asked, shaking his hand.

"That's fine Nurse Jenkins. Hardly anyone calls me by Darrell or my last name now," Shifty explained.

"Alright, well, I won't keep you. Go get your dinner, but be careful, alright?" Lillian asked.

"Will do Nurse Lil!" Perconte proclaimed before the men walked off. The men gave a nod, and Malarkey waved goodbye.

_"I could definitely get used to this," _Lillian thought to herself as she smiled, generally happy with the way this war, her life really was progressing. She continued folding for a few minutes and came back to the aid station with a basket full of clean sheets.

"Done already Lillian?" Roe asked.

"Yeah, have anything else for me to do?" she asked.

"No patients, everything's basically prepped …" Roe said, glancing around as the two of them leaned against the edges of a bed. "It feels odd."

"Definitely. I'm so used to seeing and taking care of patients, it's almost worrying me that there aren't any," Lillian agreed. Roe raised his eyebrows, which made Lillian explain, "I feel like it's a bad omen that there aren't any, you know? Almost like we'll jinx ourselves if we relax?" Roe shrugged.

"Nurse Jenkins?" Lipton came into the doorway and nodded his head with small smile. "Hey Doc."

"Hey Lip," Roe greeted as Lillian walked to Lipton.

"Yes, sir? What can I do for you?" she asked.

"I was told that you should report to HQ for a screening," Lipton explained.

"Screening? For what?" Lillian asked, confused.

"Oh, to see something, not a medical screening," Lipton clarified, shaking his head.

"Oh, alright." She walked out with Lipton to HQ and found many officers there. Since most of the men had already been there, the seats were taken, but Lillian didn't mind standing. She leaned against a wall as the room quieted down. The lights were shut off, and the reel began to play. Lillian crossed her arms crossed over her chest, watching a bloody, fiery battle unravel before her eyes.

"The heroic dead of the combined Army and Marine Corps mark the grim battlefield of Okinawa where one of the bloodiest engagements of the war is being fought," the voiceover announced. She watched as what could've been a tropical place was consumed by smoke, fire and machine guns, firing at an enemy not caught on camera.

"Thousands of Yanks have been wounded, and other thousands have sacrificed their lives. Along the Japs southern defense line, the Yanks progress slowly, facing one of the fiercest artillery barrages of the war. Each small advance gained by bravery in the face of withering fire from a suicidal enemy slowly being hammered back into the hills."

She began to notice that most of the men in the room were silent. She noticed the serious expressions. Lillian knew what this meant; and making eye contact briefly with Winters only confirmed her suspicions. Looking at how the boys over in Japan could use some reinforcements, it seemed like the 101st would be redeployed to Japan and to go back to war.

"The going is brutal, and our casualties are high, but Okinawa is the next big step to victory over Japan. A victory that can only be won by work, war bonds, and heroic sacrifice."

The men immediately started to converse as soon as the lights came back on. Lillian closed her eyes and massaged the bridge of her nose, desperately trying to get the last scene out of her mind. A medic standing over at least a dozen soldiers on stretchers, not even near a field station. That hit her hard, and she suddenly felt that the bliss of no war, no more patients would soon be a thing of the past. Lillian pushed off of the wall and passed by a few other men she knew.

"So, when are we going?" Speirs asked.

"We don't have a date yet," Winters replied.

Lillian walked out of HQ and slowly back to the aid station._ "Redeployment to Japan?" _She exhaled deeply to calm the slowly increasing butterflies in her stomach. They didn't have a date, but Winters had basically said they were going. She wasn't sure if she could tell Eugene or Spina or any of them that. Of course, they would find out by other means, but she didn't want to tell any of them anything about war unless it was over or they were going home. She knew these men had seen and lived through plenty of war; and that was probably one reason why they were being redeployed—they had experience, and they were good. That would hit them hard. She knew that when she first heard someone she knew was going off to training for war, she felt like her world had just stopped and snapped herself out a perfect world.

_Lillian walked up the stairs and onto the platform, putting on a smile that her mother had ingrained her memory would be the only to get any wealthy man's eye the right way. However, this banquet was only to raise money for charity. The highest bidder would get a dance with her. They would be repeating the lineup of young ladies until the banquet was supposed to end._

_ "We have Lillian Jenkins up next, and as you've seen gentlemen, she is quite the dancer," the announcer said, nodding his head confidently. "Her next dance is the waltz, oh, a fine choice for one with her grace and beauty." Lillian, knowing all too well that she had to showcase herself, smiled a bit wider before picking up one side of her dress and spinning slowly, revealing the entirety of her pale blue, sleeveless dress._

_ "Let's start the bidding at ten dollars. Do I have ten? I have ten, do I have fifteen? Fifteen, twenty? Twenty, do I see twenty-five? I have twenty-five, do I see thirty?"_

_The bidding seemed to go on for ages, but she saw who was waiting to put in his bid. Charles Grover was an old friend of the family thanks to the Great War and had graduated with Oliver from high school. People said he was richer than the governor. She didn't really associate with Charles, and he rarely attended things she did. Her mother always told her to act interested in Charles, and to encourage him, but Lillian found nothing attractive about the man._

_ "One hundred and fifty," Charles finally called out, substantially increasing the current bid of eighty-five dollars, not wanting to wait any longer. Most of the men turned to him in complete surprise, but they all put their cards down and stopped bidding. Lillian was as equally surprised, but she knew was going to have to dance with him sooner or later._

_ "One hundred sixty!" a voice called out. Lillian's heart beat a little faster at the sound and presence of Richard Winters walking in, looking exceedingly handsome in a tuxedo. Everyone looked around to see who had bid higher than Charles Grover, and to say the least, they were amazed when they saw Dick._

_ "Two hundred," Charles challenged, not paying attention to Dick, even though Lillian knew they knew each other._

_ "Two ten," Dick challenged._

_ "Two hundred twenty," Charles stood up, turning to Dick._

_ "Two thirty," Dick overruled, coming closer. Surprised that he was still going higher, Charles managed to get out,_

_ "Two hundred and for—!"_

_ "Two fifty," Dick said, simply. Charles sized up Dick and scoffed._

_ "Aren't you running out of money Winters?" Charles challenged._

_ "Are you?" Dick asked, innocently. Lillian's smile grew, and Charles stood in front of a farm boy, his mouth gaping like a fish._

_ "Two hundred and fifty dollars, going once? … Going twice? …" The announcer was waiting for a response from Charles, but when none came, he smiled widely. "Sold! To Mr. Winters, thank you sir!" the announcer proclaimed, excitedly at the amount of money that he had just collected off of one dance. Charles, after regaining some composure, glared at him before walking off, and Lillian walked down to him from the platform as the music began. When the two met on the dance floor, she curtsied, and he bowed before they came together in dance position._

_ "Richard, how did you—?" Lillian asked, completely blown away, but on the inside overjoyed that he would pay so much money to dance with her._

_ "From my job and my car," Dick explained as they began to dance._

_ "You sold your car?" Lillian gasped, "but, how did you get here then?"_

_ "Walked then found a taxi," Dick explained. Thankfully, other couples came onto the floor, so the two weren't completely alone._

_ "And you did all that just so you could—?"_

_ "Donate to charity, dance with you, and get these looks from everyone in Lancaster like I'm crazy, yes," Dick said, spinning her. However, Lillian's head was turned away from Dick, and she didn't hear his second reason. And he didn't see her face drop._

_ "Oh," Lillian said, trying to mask her disappointment. As she looked around the banquet hall to distract herself, she pursed her lips at an unpleasant sight._

_ "What's wrong?" Dick asked, eyeing her uneasy face. She quickly masked that and turned her head closer to him so she could whisper to him, without making it seem like they were talking._

_ "Charles' parents are talking to him … and looking at us," Lillian replied. As soon as Dick was able to see Mr. and Mrs. Grover, he wished he hadn't. The trio, one of the richest families in Lancaster, was glaring at the couple. The hard, Navy stare from Charles' father was one that reminded Lillian of her father's own stare._

_ "Mrs. Grover looks absolutely aghast," she said, cringing._

_ "She's probably wondering who would turn down her son," Dick joked. Lillian stifled a laugh._

_ "Well, it is for charity. It's not my fault if someone bid higher than her darling boy," she joked, which made Dick smile wider._

_Then, out of nowhere, Dick became a dancer. It seemed like he was using all of his brain power and ballroom knowledge to make sure that Lillian was smiling and enjoying herself. Whatever his intentions were and for whatever reason he was doing this, Lillian could not stop smiling. It was like something out of a dream she had, a daydream that she longed to become reality. Her pretty, aristocratic façade faded, and it felt like she was flying; not just because of the speed she and Dick were moving, but she felt as if she had been released from all societal, familial and personal burdens. She felt she was just a simple version of herself, and Lillian liked it. It was worth seeing the looks on the faces of the society matrons, who never thought the daughter of Frederick and Caroline Jenkins could behave like this in public; Mrs. Grover's certainly had to be the best. He spun her as the final notes dragged out and the song ended. He bowed, and she curtsied as the audience hesitantly applauded._

_ "Lily," Dick said, which made Lillian her smile wider. However, his face was serious, and hers became quickly concerned at his tone. "I have to tell you something."_

_ "What's wrong?" she asked, moving closer to him. When Dick didn't answer her right away, she demanded in a gentle and worried voice, "Richard, tell me."_

_ "I'm enlisting," Dick finally said, which made Lillian's eyes grow wide. "I'm leaving for South Carolina tomorrow morning."_

_ "What?" Lillian managed to say after a moment of total shock and silence. "We aren't fighting a war though! It's Europe!"_

_ "We will, and I think we're going to be entering it pretty soon," Dick explained. Lillian slowly raised her hand to her mouth as he continued, "If we are, I want to be a part of it."_

_ "But-but what about college? Your life here? Your family? Us—" His eyebrows shot up, but she shook her head and clarified quickly, "Oliver and I?" Dick shook his head with a small smile, attempting to calm Lillian._

_ "I think a year or two away from Pennsylvania isn't going to kill me,"_

_ "I'll never forgive you if it does."_

"Excuse me!" a man called out from behind. Lillian was taken out of her thoughts and turned around, not knowing who was speaking to whom. She saw a tall man, in a paratrooper uniform, but she had not seen him around the base or ever before. However, he was coming towards her with determination and anger in his voice and steps. He pointed at her, and challenged, "Who are you?"

"Lieutenant Jenkins, Lillian R., Captain," Lillian answered, standing at attention.

"Jenkins, what are you doing with the paratroopers?" he demanded, staring maybe even glaring at her. He moved closer, and Lillian managed to catch his name on his uniform before she looked straight in his eyes. "_Women _should not be with the paratroopers."

"I'm sorry Captain Sobel, but I was reassigned here—" Lillian started.

"From where?" Sobel cut her off.

"94th EVAC Hospital, Italy, sir," she replied, trying not to get angry at his impatience.

"Why would the 506 need a woman like you?" Sobel asked, quietly and degradingly as he sized her up.

"The 506 needed more medical hands sir, and since I am a nurse with station, field and evacuation hospital experience, serving since D-Day, Colonel Sink believed it to be in the best interests of the regiment to have nurses in the 101st, particularly in the 506." Lillian explained quickly, certain her tone bordered resentment at times. Sobel's eyebrows shot up, but said he nothing. "If you so desire sir, you can go to Colonel Sink or my CO, and they can verify that for you."

"Your CO?" Sobel questioned.

"Major Winters, sir," Lillian replied. Sobel looked at her suspiciously.

"_Major _Winters?" Sobel repeated, emphasizing the rank.

"Yes sir," Lillian said, simply. Sobel nodded, although looking like he didn't believe her. Then he looked out and nodded again before going off. Lillian turned around to look at Sobel from the back before heading back to the aid station.

"Lillian!" Malarkey came jogging to her.

"Don?" Malarkey looked back and forth between her and Sobel's retreating figure.

"Were you just talking to that man, down the street?" he asked, curiously.

"Yes, Captain Sobel. Where did he come from?" Lillian asked, turning around to watch him go with Malarkey. "I've never seen him before."

"He used to be Easy's CO, and now he's a teacher at a jump school or something like that." Malarkey explained. "What did he talk to you about? He looked, uh …"

"Infuriated?" Lillian filled in. Malarkey nodded.

Winters was walking down the street when a string of laughter interrupted his thoughts. He turned to the aid station to Lillian and Donald Malarkey laughing as if everything in the world was right. They began to talk, both completely comfortable and at ease with one another. He had noticed they had become friends over time, but he didn't expect them to be as close as they looked. A twinge of jealousy ran through him. He wished he could just walk up to her and talk to her like that. Winters wished he had the time and the freedom to go and do that; in his mind, it would seem weird for a major to talk to a nurse so casually. It didn't matter if they were friends or not, it would still look a little suspicious to the men. And Lillian did look like she was having a good time with Malarkey … _could she have feelings for him? _Sure, Winters had danced with her, but as soon as it was done, she went to go talk to Malarkey outside. Doubt and worry ran through Winters' thoughts; he might've missed his chance. Those feelings that he had kept quiet, waiting for the right moment and just to make sure that his feelings were correct, might've been kept quiet for too long now.


	7. Nursing the Needs

_Thanks to Holly's Mean Reds, Amanda, Liliesshadow, and for their reviews. :)_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7: Nursing the Needs<strong>

"Lillian?" Most men that weren't accompanying the new voice were confusedly looking around. Malarkey's and Winters' eyes immediately looked to the group of men. Lillian turned around, and her face lit up with surprise.

"Clara!" Both sets of eyes followed Lillian who went to hug an apparent friend, another nurse in her uniform with her brown hair tied back in the same fashion as Lillian. They both looked exceedingly happy to see one another. "What're you doing here?"

"I was transferred here from the 57th about a month ago." Clara explained. "What're you doing here?"

"I was transferred from the 94th EVAC in Italy a few months back. What company are you in? How could we have not seen each other before now?" Lillian asked, curiously.

"I'm in Dog. What about you?" Clara inquired, just as curious as Lillian.

"Easy," Lillian explained, nodding. Clara nodded as well.

"That's why," Clara concluded.

"We have to talk soon. I haven't seen you in years. No … months," Lillian said.

"I know it feels like years. I'm off of duty around eighteen hundred, so how about we meet … eighteen ten?" Clara proposed.

"By Easy's HQ?" Lillian suggested.

"Perfect—Dog's aid station is a few minutes away," Clara agreed, nodding. "See you then."

"Bye Clara!" Lillian called to Clara as she jogged to catch up with the men she had been with. Clara raised her hand and gave a thumbs-up without looking behind her. Night came slowly for the two nurses who couldn't wait to catch up with the other. They weren't incredibly busy during the day, but nothing they did made the day go quicker. Unfortunately, time seemed to fly by when they met up; they continued talking until at least twenty-one hundred.

"So, I see that you've made quite a group of friends and fans in Easy," Clara commented.

"Friends, yes, but fans?" Lillian inquired.

"Lillian, you're the only woman in the company. And it's been God-only knows how long since they've seen their sweethearts. I know you're smart enough to know that they would be obviously looking …" Clara led on.

"Clara, these men are different," Lillian said honestly, shaking her head.

"Please! Just because they're paratroopers doesn't mean they don't act like other men," Clara argued.

"By the mere fact that they _are _paratroopers makes them different in how they act compared to other—"

"Lillian," Clara raised an eyebrow, "you know what I mean. It's so bad some times in Dog, especially with lieutenants who think they know everything." Lillian laughed at Clara's disgusted look. "But I didn't think the XO would act like that." Lillian's brow scrunched in confusion.

"The XO?"

"Major Winters."

"Major Winters doesn't act like that, believe me," Lillian assured, more than positive that Richard Winters had never and would ever act like how Clara was describing. Clara shook her head again.

"Really? Not from where I was standing," Clara retorted. "Sure, it wasn't to the same degree, but it definitely happened. When he was looking at you, I don't know, he just seemed shy and reserved. Now don't get me wrong, he's been a great leader for the battalion, but the way he was … Lillian?" Clara bent forward curiously to look at her friend who turned away from her. However, Clara's face lit up with a cry of exclamation, and a wide smile grew on her face when Lillian turned around.

"You should keep it down Clara. You might wake up the officers," Lillian advised, quietly.

"Oh Lillian, did you not know?" Clara asked. Lillian didn't answer. "Hold on now, do you—?"

"It's complicated," Lillian replied, fidgeting with her sleeves. "And it's getting too late anyway. I need to get back to the aid station."

"C'mon Lillian!" Clara exclaimed as the two women stood up.

"Clara, another time. I promise," Lillian promised, holding a finger to her mouth to tell her to keep her voice low.

"Don't think I won't forget either!" Clara said, pointing a finger at her.

* * *

><p>"Company!"<p>

"Platoon!"

"Attention!" All stood at attention before Speirs barked two more orders that included weapons. Lillian's eyes squinted against the bright sun, along with the banging of the guns on the ground around her did nothing to ease her growing headache. She just prayed that Speirs would stop soon.

"At ease," Speirs commanded finally. All of them separated their legs and relaxed a little, Lillian sighing in relief. "General Taylor is aware that many veterans, including Normandy veterans still do not have the eighty-five points required to be discharged." Lillian looked around at the men, and all she kept asking herself was how could _these _men not have enough points to go home?

"On this, the anniversary of D-Day, he has authorized a lottery to send one man home in each company, effective immediately." Talbert came up with a helmet, which Lieutenant Welsh shuffled up pieces of paper and picked one.

"For Easy company, the winner is …" he handed it to Speirs, and almost everyone straightened up a little more in curiosity. "Serial number 13066266, Sergeant Darrell C. Powers," Speirs boomed. All of the men smiled and cheered.

"Shifty!" The amount of wolf-whistles and jeers made the sharpshooter smile and blush.

"That's how it's done Shifty!" Luz yelled before whistling again. Lillian smiled.

"Sergeant Grant will see to it that 2nd platoon will take over at the crossroads checkpoint, beginning at twenty-two hundred hours," Speirs said before continuing, "General Taylor has also announced that the 101st Airborne Division will definitely be redeployed to Pacific." Men's faces became serious in an instant, the smiles wiped clean off. Lillian bit her lip at some of the hopeless and angered faces she was seeing.

"So, beginning tomorrow at zero six hundred hours, we will begin training to go to war. Dismissed."

* * *

><p>"Come in," Winters called out, signing and reading the multiple reports on the table.<p>

"I don't mean to interrupt you sir," the voice of Shifty Powers said softly in his Virginia accent. "I just wanted to say goodbye." Winters put the pen down and immediately stood up as Shifty continued, "You was, you was uh … well … it's been a long time." Winters nodded and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Got everything you need?"

"Yes, sir. I gathered up my loot—pistols mainly. Paperwork's all done, I even got my back pay in my pocket," Shifty explained with a small smile. However, Winters knew something was wrong with him as Shifty looked out across the lake and down at his feet. He was holding back something. "Back-back home in Virginia … well …"

Shifty looked at Winters, straight in the eyes, licked his lips quickly, and said, "I just don't rightly know how I'm going to explain all this." Shifty looked down again, and Winters waited patiently for Shifty to continue talking. Winters titled his head down, and Shifty's head came up and saw the look. Shifty nodded before he said, "You see um … I seen … I've seen …"

"You're one hell of a fine soldier, Shifty." Winters said with a smile and nodded. "There's nothing more to explain." Shifty looked up at Winters with gratitude and honor gleaming in his eyes before nodding slightly.

"Thank you, sir," Shifty said as Winters smiled. Shifty saluted Winters with a smile before Winters saluted back, putting some confidence and easiness back into to the finest shooter in the 506. Winters then extended his hand and shook Shifty's. And with that, Darrel C. Powers walked out of Winters' sight.

Just as Winters was about to continue his monotonous desk work, he stopped and began to think, looking in the direction that Shifty left. All of the men deserved to be sent home, but he was glad that Shifty was chosen. Before the lottery, he needed fifteen points because he had never been wounded. Seeing and talking to Shifty though opened Winters' eyes; trying to just speak about the war to Winters was difficult enough, how would Shifty handle it in America? Shifty spent a good portion of his time on the frontline, maybe a weekend pass here and there, but no leave to recuperate and not a day went by that he didn't see the enemy. All of the pent-up feelings, memories, struggles … All of that sounded oddly familiar to him. Winters remembered when Nixon had his splint and sling, and later the following night he was complaining to Winters after he regaled how Lillian found and fixed him.

_"Then Jenkins was going on about venting and shit like that," Nixon said, inhaling his smoke. "She was saying that it'll eat a man alive or something." Winters shook his head._

_"Well, you know she's probably right about that Nix," Winters explained. "More than likely she's seen that happen." Nixon nodded and heaved a sigh._

_"Yeah." Nixon looked away, and Winters looked down at his feet. "She has some of her own venting to do," Winters looked back up at his friend with a questioning look._

_"What's that supposed to mean?" Nixon shrugged, an exaggerated shrug, one that meant he was implying something._

_"You saw how she was at Landsberg. Sure, that was pretty emotional and overwhelming day for everyone, but it definitely showed that she could use a break or something of her own." Nixon inhaled his smoke again before eyeing his friend._

Winters smirked at the memory. He knew what Nixon was implying because his friend had probably figured out his feelings for her now. However, that jog of memory inspired him to do some research, and he found that Lillian had not taken a leave of absence except for a week absence that was shortened to two days. He also discovered that her absence was given to her in Italy; Winters figured it was when she was wounded. For once, Lewis Nixon was actually in agreement with the official record. She did need a break.

* * *

><p><em>"Afternoon, General. Lieutenant Jenkins is here to see you, sir," the sergeant explained, opening the door halfway.<em>

_"Bring her in," the sergeant opened the door completely, moved out of Lillian's way, and stood at attention. Lillian walked up to the general's desk and saluted sharply. General Clark returned the salute and offered her the seat. They both sat down._

_"So, Lieutenant, you applied for a transfer?"_

_"Yes, sir."_

_"To the 13th Airborne, who is heading for the Pacific and more than likely going to stay there for the remainder of the war and months after?" he asked, formally but as if he wanted her to seriously reconsider the transfer._

_"Yes, sir. That is my intention." General Clark looked at Lillian, who wasn't sure what to make of his look. He was suspicious, but still staring at her, he flipped open a folder with several sheets of paper in it._

_"It says here you trained in California, then shipped off to the 57th Station Hospital in Algeria, and went through D-Day plus 174." the general seemed surprised. "That must've been hell,"_

_"It was … difficult, yes sir."_

_"Lieutenant, don't degrade your time and effort." General Clark shook his head and looked out the window. "I've heard stories and seen myself pieces of the horror the men, and nurses, deal with down there. 'Difficult' is an understatement for Algeria." He eyed Lillian in a manner that made her nod and clear her throat._

_"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir," Lillian said._

_"Then you and four others were transferred to the 94th EVAC in Italy," he said with a slight chuckle, "under Major Fillion's command?" A small smile broke Lillian's serious expression._

_"Yes, sir."_

_"She's one spitfire of a woman, and one hell of a nurse," Lillian nodded._

_"I learned a lot from her, sir. She is a great leader and model to follow," she commented. The general offered her a smile and a nod._

_"Coincidentally, that's exactly what she told me about you." the general explained._

"He had contacted Marie? Why?"_ Lillian thought._

_"You were wounded in Italy?" he continued. Lillian nodded._

_"Yes, sir. The 94th took in two SS soldiers to treat them and nurse them back to health, in order to survive interrogation. They attempted to escape, and my arm and shoulder were stabbed by a scalpel."_

_"A scalpel?" the general's eyebrows shot up._

_"The prisoner cut my forearm and then trying to push me out of their way, half of the scalpel was embedded in my shoulder," she explained._

_"Then you were reassigned from the 94th to the 101st?" Lillian nodded._

_"Yes, sir. Colonel Sink of the 506th PIR believed that they needed more medical assistance, due to their past outposts and in preparation for the upcoming outposts," Lillian replied. General Clark just nodded, looking at her._

_"It must've been quite an adjustment," he commented._

_"It was, and at the same time, it wasn't." Lillian said, shaking her head. The general leaned back into his seat. "The only real adjustments were that I wasn't waking up and working with women, and I was just seeing the men more often." He remained silent for a moment._

_"Jenkins, I'm going to be straightforward with you." The general leaned forward. "Do you plan on making a career out of this?" The countless number of times she had asked herself this question, and all Lillian could say was the same answer over and over again._

_"I … I don't know. I'm debating it, sir." She replied._

_"Here is my answer for you: let the replacements and the nurses already there handle the Pacific," the general explained. "The 101st will be there soon enough. Besides, you want to go home, don't you?" Now that she was thinking about it, did she really want go home?_

* * *

><p>"Lillian?" She blinked and turned around in her seat to find Roe looking at her curiously. "You alright?"<p>

"Sorry Gene, I'm fine. I was thinking," Lillian replied. She had become so lost in her thoughts that she forgot she was still sitting in plain sight of soldiers and still technically on-duty.

"Major Winters wants to see you at battalion HQ," Roe said.

"Alright, I better get going then." Lillian stood up from her chair and walked out of the aid station and to battalion HQ.

"Major Winters wanted to see me?"

"He just went to the back Lieutenant. Go up these stairs and at the third hallway, take a right and keep going straight," the corporal at the front desk replied.

"Thank you." Lillian quickly ascended the stairs and followed the hallway down to what was apparently the back. When she saw the view of the lake from the room, she went quickly towards the end.

"Harry, ignore him." Winters said. _Harry? Lieutenant Welsh? _Lillian held back.

"How am I supposed to tell her that I had the chance to go home to her finally and decided not to, so I could go jump on Tokyo?" Welsh asked.

"Alright, so don't tell her," Nixon said. "Besides, she's waited for you for three years, right? We'll back to Tokyo and back in two years, three tops," Nixon elaborated reasonably, smoking.

"It'll probably be over before we even get there. The reality is you're gonna sit here in Austria for six months, waiting to go, and I'll be back in Wilkesberry, making babies," Welsh explained, sounding happy with the last part especially. Lillian chuckled.

"You didn't tell him?" Winters asked.

"No, I couldn't get him to shut up," Nixon said, smiling.

"What? Tell me what?" Welsh asked.

"Guts and glory here applied for a transfer," Nixon replied. _What? _Lillian's face dropped.

"What?" Welsh exclaimed, sounding concerned.

"The 13th Airborne are heading out for the Pacific right away." _No, he couldn't be … _"If I'm going, I want to get it over with." _He couldn't have applied for the same transfer …_

"Are you in on this too?" Welsh questioned, turning to Nixon.

"I can't let him go by himself. He doesn't know where it is," Nixon replied. _They couldn't …_

"You're leaving the men?" Welsh asked.

"They don't need me anymore," Winters said.

Lillian closed her eyes in dismay. _This couldn't be happening. They were all applying for the same transfer. _Since the official announcement from General Taylor, she had been thinking about applying for a transfer, and a few days ago, she finally managed to decide that it would be better to go Japan earlier. So, she went and got the papers, yet Lillian hadn't handed them in. She only kept imagining how the interview with General Clark would go. It wasn't that she wanted to go home earlier, but she knew that anyone going would need help. That video was horrific, and she wanted to help over there as much as she could. She wanted to be attending to patients, stitching wounds and cuts, wanting to feel like she was being helpful; Lillian wanted to feel like she was still a nurse. She exhaled though, remembering that Winters actually called her to HQ for something. Besides, she didn't want them to see her and think she had just been there listening to that entire conversation. Lillian walked out to the balcony and stairs and made herself known to the three men.

"Major Winters?" Winters, Nixon and Welsh's eyes met hers, and they nodded their heads almost simultaneously in greeting.

"Jenkins, good," Winters greeted, walking up towards her, "I have something for you." The two walked back into the HQ and went into his office. He grabbed a piece of paper off his desk and handed to her. "I don't care where you go, as long as you're back on time and I don't see you until you're supposed to be back," Winters explained. Lillian's eyes widened.

"Sir, a twenty-four hour pass? Thank you, but what happens if—" Lillian began. Winters cracked a small smile, knowing something like that would come from her.

"Roe can manage running the aid station without you for a day," Winters dismissed. Lillian looked at Winters and reluctantly nodded.

"Yes, sir."

"Well, get going. Clock's ticking." Lillian nodded and saluted him. As she began to walk out, Winters called back to her, remembering something else, "Oh, and Jenkins?"

"Sir?" Lillian turned around. Winters walked over and handed her another piece of paper.

"Make sure you give this to Lieutenant Clara Johnson in Dog company. I'm sure she'll want it," Winters said, handing her another twenty-four hour pass.

"Yes, sir. Thank you sir." As soon Lillian was out of Winters' sight, her concealed, giddy, girly smile broke through, and she ran off to find Clara. To say the least, Clara was surprised.

"I can't believe he did that! I'll be out in a few minutes." Clara ran inside, called to a few people, dropped a few things in her efforts to get out quickly, and then came out, brandishing a key.

"What's the key for?" Lillian asked as they began walking.

"You think we're going to walk to the city? No way," Clara declared. Lillian's mouth gaped in realization.

"How did you manage to get a _jeep_?" she asked. Clara smirked in pride.

"The senior medic in Dog has a key to one just in case he has to rush a patient to the town hospital," Clara explained, "he trusts me enough to let me use it, I guess."

"All thanks to Algeria, I suppose." Lillian commented.

"Cheers to that disgustingly hot country!" Clara proclaimed while smiles grew on their faces.

They climbed into the jeep and started it up. As they came down the road, the looks on the men's faces when they passed by were confused, and in Clara's words "priceless." Soon enough, the two drove past the checkpoint, and Lillian waved to Webster as he looked up at her before talking to a German soldier. A smile grew on his face, crooking his cigarette to the side as he waved back.

"Lillian, _who _was that? He looks too good to be in the army," Clara exclaimed.

"David Webster. He's wonderfully charming," Lillian said.

"I wonder why I couldn't find any guy like him back in Maine." Clara shook her head.

"These are the paratroopers, remember?" Lillian joked. The two laughed, but their laughter was caught short when they heard a crash. Clara quickly stepped on the break as the two women saw the smoking, overturned jeep and barrels.

"Oh God," Lillian jumped out of the passengers' seat and began to run. Clara and Webster were at her side within seconds, and the three of them started uncover the jeep and get the two men out.

"Hang on, we got you," Lillian told the barely conscious Janovec as she and Webster unearthed him. Webster carried him, and Clara and Lillian shared the weight of the unconscious, but not seriously wounded driver.

"Nurse Jenkins?"

"I'm right here Janovec, don't worry. We'll be at the aid station soon," Lillian told him as the five of them climbed and maneuvered onto and in the jeep. "David—give me Janovec, and take the driver." Webster gave her Janovec as Clara helped Webster grab hold of the driver. Janovec's eyes rolled into the back of his head, and Lillian could barely feel a pulse.

"Clara, drive fast. I'm losing him,"

"On it," Clara said before the jeep sped back up to the regiment's outpost, the dust of the dirt creating clouds behind them. Webster kept staring at Janovec with wide eyes, as if he didn't believe this was truly happening.

"C'mon Janovec, stay with me," Lillian muttered before starting CPR. "Clara!"

"I'm going as fast as the jeep's letting me!"

"He's not responding!"

"Where is he bleeding?"

"I don't know! I'm just trying to keep conscious!" Lillian looked over Janovec's body. He was beaten up, but there was no bleeding on the front of his body. Lillian's face dropped as she went to lift his head. "Hit in the head!"

"Take my bag!" Clara tossed the musette bag behind her. "We're almost there!" Lillian applied gauze and pressure to his head wound, and as she handed back Clara's bag, her eyes moved to the road and widened.

"CLARA—LOOK OUT!"

Clara cursed aloud as she barely dodged an incoming truck and spun, almost out of control. No one was prepared for the spinning, and Webster and Lillian hit themselves against the sides of the jeep. Clara slammed on the brakes, and the jeep was thrown to a stop. Dr. Kent and a few of the other medics who had heard the screech ran outside to the five. Clara was explaining the situation to Dr. Kent as Webster and the unconscious driver got out of the jeep, but Lillian was checking Janovec's pulse. Lillian sighed angrily as she let go of Janovec's head and gently placed him onto the jeep.

"Dr. Kent, I need a stretcher and a blanket," Lillian said, turning to him. Clara turned around and peered into the jeep before sighing. Webster turned around as soon as the driver was taken into the aid station.

"I'll get the ambulance," Dr. Kent said, nodding to them before leaving. The stretcher was brought out, and Clara and Lillian placed Janovec's body on it. The ambulance came within minutes, and Speirs and Winters came running to the scene since they were in battalion HQ and heard the sirens.

"He was dead when they brought him in," Dr. Kent explained to Winters when he arrived. All of them looked at the private before the blanket covered his face.

"Seventy-five points," Webster muttered, shaking his head.

"What?" Speirs asked.

"He was ten points short," Webster replied before placing the stretcher into the ambulance. Winters looked over at the angered and saddened Lillian and Clara, and before he left, he pulled them both aside.

"Johnson, Jenkins, get yourselves cleaned up and go. Dr. Kent and the medics can handle things," Winters ordered. Both women were ready to put up a fight about how they would be fine with staying, "That's an order."

"Yes, sir," the two chorused before turning and leaving.


	8. Right Diagnosis?

_Thanks to Amanda for her review, and being a faithful non-FF reader/reviewer. :)_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 8: Right Diagnosis?<strong>

Lillian and Clara made it to the city after two hours of trying to maneuver their way through the little villages and confusing roads. The two found a quaint restaurant to have lunch, and after ordering their meals, Clara leaned forward with curious look.

"So, start explaining Lillian. What's complicated between you and Major Winters?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. Lillian took a drink of her water before leaning back into the seat.

"I knew him before the war started. He and my brother were the best of friends, even though they were very different. They went through elementary and high school together—"

"_You _and _your _relationship Lillian, stop beating around the bush!" Clara demanded.

"I was getting there Clara! So, because they were close, I saw him often when I was a little girl. I played with them all the time. We'd go to the park or each other's houses and just fool around, making our typical, routine Pennsylvanian life not so boring. Like, we used to make up names for one another."

"Really? What'd he call you?"

"Lily."

"Oh, that's precious, but why Lily?"

"My brother suggested that I have a nickname that's a flower because my middle name is a flower as well," Lillian chuckled.

"What's your middle name?"

"Rose."

"Lillian Rose … that's adorable! I'd love that name, oh, but what did you call Winters?"

"My brother called him Dick, but I called him Rich," Lillian shrugged, and Clara nodded. "Then, as we got older, Oliver and Rich—Major Winters went to Lancaster School for Boys, and my parents started coming down on us about our familial duties." Clara made a face at Lillian's tone.

"I think I remember you telling me something about those and some people, um, some guy named Rover maybe?" Clara asked.

"_Rover_?" Lillian repeated, a laugh ready on her lips. "I told you about _Grover_?" A wave of realization washed over Clara's face like she had an epiphany, which made Lillian laugh.

"Oh yeah! David, Michael, or something, right?" Clara asked.

"Not even close Clara. Try Charles," Lillian smiled.

"Charles Grover! Right," Clara proclaimed.

"You might want to speak a little louder. I don't think they heard you in California," Lillian teased, and both of them began to laugh before Lillian explained her situation with Winters.

"So, have you told him yet?" she asked.

"Told him what? That I—no, Clara. I can't!" Lillian shook her head fervently.

"Why not?" Clara exclaimed, absolutely astounded.

"I can't just walk up to him—we're still in war. We're preparing for Japan!" Lillian argued.

"So? Lillian," Clara leaned forward a little more, "who knows if you're gonna see him tomorrow or not? For all we know, the outpost could've blown up, or some Nazi who still thinks the war is going on, could've waltzed in and shot him dead." Lillian fidgeted in her seat.

"You gotta take chances while you still have them! Take an opportunity, and change your life! You don't know what's going to happen, and from what I saw, I think he feels the same way." Lillian leaned forward as Clara leaned backward.

"You know I believe that opportunities can change your life; I'm living proof of it. But, this? This is different. We could get into serious trouble, and there would be serious consequences, like being dishonorably discharged for starters, if someone knew we had some kind of romantic relationship—it's against army policy, you know that." Lillian argued, shaking her head. Clara made a face and looked away.

"Clara, under any other circumstances, I would, but not here, not now. It's still dangerous." Clara sighed as she turned back to Lillian.

The two nurses spent the rest of the night around town. They went to a play, which Lillian translated bits and pieces of. The two were pretty confused by what was going on, and had more fun taking guesses at what the play was about than actually paying attention. They came to a little inn and took baths before going to bed considerably earlier than their norm. They were in one room with two beds and a bathroom with some dressers and a bedside table, so they were pretty comfortable even though the beds were creaky and made noise whenever either of them moved. That was what woke Lillian up originally.

Clara was tossing in her sleep, and Lillian, who had become a light sleeper, heard her in the next bed. Lillian closed her eyes again in an attempt to fall asleep, but then she heard Clara muttering to herself. Lillian opened her eyes and turned over to see Clara's sweaty face etched in worry against the moonlight from the window.

"No … wait, no Peter … she's coming with morphine … just, please, hold on …"

_Peter_. Lillian sat up slowly as Clara's eyelids tightened, and her breathing became shallower and quicker. Lillian remembered Peter. He was one of their first patients at the 56th, and he seemed to come back almost every week with something to be patched up or just visiting one of his buddies. Clara and Peter had grown close, and one day he came back in as a patient, but in the worst condition he'd ever been. He had been hit by two grenades and had severe burning and bleeding in his chest and face especially. Clara and Lillian did all they could, but he died ten minutes later. Clara was shaken by his death, but seemed to return to her normal, bubbly self. Still, there were some days that Clara didn't seem completely herself, and now Lillian knew why for certain.

She got up and did her friend the favor of waking her up from the dream. Clara's eyes quickly opened before covering her mouth. The two nurses had a moment with one another; Lillian looked empathetically at a bewildered and disturbed Clara. She shot up and hugged Lillian tightly before beginning to sob and shake in Lillian's arm. Lillian hugged her just as tightly back and rocked her slowly, quieting her gently. It wasn't until two in the morning that Clara fell back asleep in Lillian's arms.

The next morning, they didn't speak about what happened. The two nurses continued on and went for breakfast and a quick walk around the city before returning back to the outpost. The Easy company men they passed on their way to the checkpoint waved to Lillian. One former Easy commander smiled at Clara and Lillian as they got out of the jeep.

"Major, reporting back for duty," Lillian greeted, both Clara and she saluting Winters. He looked at his watch and then back at them.

"You're ten minutes early, lieutenants," Winters told them before saluting.

"We're sorry, sir. There wasn't much traffic on the roads, and we went twenty miles an hour," Clara said with a completely straight face. Winters eyed the two serious nurses before smirking and chuckling.

"Alright then, head back to your stations," he ordered.

"See you around Lillian," Clara said, hugging her.

"See you around Clara," Lillian said before the two split ways. She smiled at Winters gratefully.

"Thank you again Major Winters."

"Did you do something on your day out?" Winters asked, curiously.

"Yes sir, we had lunch then went to go see a show which neither of us could really understand, but it was still fun," Lillian explained, nodding her head before turning back to Winters with a suspicious look. "Do you think I'd lie to you, sir?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You were always better at it than I was," Winters replied simply, shrugging. "I'm just glad you had a nice time out," Winters said, earnestly.

"Thank you, sir, but how did you know?" Lillian asked.

"Thank Captain Nixon. He complained to me about you," Winters replied, his smirk coming out again. Lillian's mouth gaped slightly, cocking an eyebrow at Winters.

"Did he now? About what I wonder? After I helped his arm to heal properly—"

"This was before he knew that actually listening to what the nurse told him to do would help him," Winters explained, making Lillian laugh lightly with Winters. "You should probably get back to the aid station."

"Yes, I should. Roe is probably wondering what's keeping me, thank you again," Lillian said for what seemed the billionth time to Winters.

"Like I said, I'm just glad you had fun and that you're better," Winters said.

"Better, sir?"

"You look better, happier … more you."

* * *

><p>"Gene, I'm heading out, alright? I should be back before twenty-one hundred," Lillian told him, putting her hair in a ponytail. Roe nodded.<p>

"You've been headin' out the past few weeks since Janovec died. Something bothering you? Or are you meeting someone every night?" Roe teased, which made Lillian shake her head and laugh.

"No, I'm not meeting anyone Gene," she replied.

"Are you sure you're alright though? If you wanna talk it out, you know I'll listen," Roe said, coming closer to her.

"I don't talk things out. I walk them out, remember?" Lillian grabbed her musette bag and attached it to her uniform with a smirk. Roe gave her a look and shook his head. "Thank you though, Gene."

"Be careful, alright?" Roe told her as she walked out.

"When have I not been?" Lillian called to him, turning around and smiling.

Soon enough, Lillian was out of his sight and far away from most of the eyes of the regiment. She had walked down to the lake. She would've continued and turned back around, but with a look at her watch and a glance at the picturesque lake, she figured why not stay and have a look around. Admiring the view while she still could, Lillian sat on a nearby rock and closed her eyes, letting the light breeze caress her body. It vaguely reminded her of the balcony she'd sneak out to late at night back in her home. At that thought though, she opened her eyes, and her jaw tightened.

"Lillian? Are you okay?" She turned to the voice, and her eyes narrowed.

"Don? What're you doing out?" Lillian asked as he got out of his jeep.

"Finishing my rounds, what are _you _doing out?" Malarkey asked, walking up and sitting next to her.

"Clearing my head," Lillian explained, vaguely.

"From what? What's on your mind?" Malarkey asked, genuinely concerned.

"How many points do you have Don?" Lillian asked seriously after a moment.

"Points?" he asked.

"How many more do you need in order to be discharged?" Lillian rephrased.

"Seven … why?" Malarkey replied, unsure of why she was asking about points.

"Okay, say that you did have enough points to go home, would you go home?" Lillian asked, turning to him completely.

"Are you kidding me? Of course! I'm tired of this war," Malarkey replied, which made Lillian bite her lip. "Why? Do you have enough points to go home or something?"

"We don't go by a point system. We stay in until the end of the war," Lillian explained. Malarkey's eyes widened, and his mouth gaped in surprise.

"Are you serious? That's ridiculous!" Malarkey exclaimed.

"It's what we signed up for," Lillian replied.

"Well, say if you did go by a points system, and you did have enough to go home, would you?" Lillian looked at Malarkey before she looked out on the tranquil lake.

"You won't like my answer, Don," Lillian warned, shaking her head slowly, looking away from him.

"Try me," Malarkey insisted.

"If I was to abide by a point system and have the choice to leave like you and the boys if I had the points, I wouldn't," Lillian replied. "Don't get me wrong. I want this war to end as quickly and with little or no more casualties at this point. It's just—complicated to go back home."

"What do you mean?" Malarkey asked, turning to her completely.

"I didn't leave the States on good terms with my family," Lillian explained, after a pause. "They were still recovering from my brother's death and figuring out how to help his wife when I decided to enlist. My mother was completely against it. _'A job as degrading and gross as that will never get you a husband!' _is what she said." She shook her head with a laugh of disgust.

"After my brother died, my father estranged himself from everyone. He was never the same after he received the news. When I told him, he wasn't upset or begging me not to leave. He was livid and gave me an ultimatum: Stay and be the good daughter he wanted me to be, or leave and not expect support from either of them when I returned, _if _I returned, he said."

Lillian looked down at her feet and was quiet for a moment. "I left, but even if he didn't give me the ultimatum, I still would've gone. As I much love and miss my brother, I was so sick and tired of people mourning him. And that dismal atmosphere in my house—it was as if life was ripped out of it, and there was nothing left. I hated it."

She sighed, pulling a fallen strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm just hoping that I can figure out what I'm going to do before the war's over for good." Lillian explained.

"Well … you can come back with me," Malarkey explained, seriously. Lillian turned to him.

"Really?"

"Really. Sure, it's probably a lot different from Pennsylvania, but I mean," Malarkey started with a smile, "Oregon is a great place. You've got a lot of different jobs, you'd be able to own a nice piece of land. You can start a new life out there. That's what my grandparents did when they came off the boat—headed west, came round to Oregon and made a lot babies."

Malarkey stopped himself for a moment then said, "We obviously wouldn't be making a family, but you know what I mean." Lillian chuckled and nodded.

"Until we find some stable, hiring jobs, I'm sure my parents wouldn't mind having one more person in the house. My mom was always the one for entertaining people. Oh man, and I could back to fly fishing out on the Columbia! I used to do it when I was younger, and did that pay. I felt like one of the richest kids in the state when summer came around. Then, oh! A few friends of mine own some stores, not too big and not as good-paying as a nurse probably, but they're great, and you'll fit in fine. Aw man, to see the looks on their faces when I come back with you, and from the paratroopers too—"

Malarkey abruptly stopped and looked at Lillian. She was smiling gently, which made him shrug his shoulders, slightly embarrassed that he went on in such a passion. "It's a thought," he said, scratching the back of his head.

"Thank you Don, I mean it. It's very generous of you to offer," Lillian said, sincerely.

"Well, just know you have options," Malarkey said to her. "What were—what are you planning on doing if you're staying?" Lillian didn't answer at first.

"I'm applying for a transfer," Lillian explained, and Malarkey's eyes widened. "Well, I don't know. I'm still thinking about it."

"Are you crazy?" Malarkey exclaimed.

"The 13th Airborne are being redeployed to the Pacific soon." Lillian continued as if she hadn't heard him, sterner than before.

"Lillian," Malarkey said, shaking his head as both of them stood up.

"I can't wait around anymore to help people," Lillian elaborated. "If they need me to, I'll go to Japan earlier to help, even if it's not with the 101st." She continued, "They're going to need every medical hand possible to keep fighting over there. All I have to do is hand in the paperwork."

"You can help around here! You've seen what's happened to our guys—"

Lillian cut Malarkey off, concerned about his reaction. "What's wrong Don?"

"What's wrong? Lillian!" Malarkey exclaimed, "There are other—_you _have other options besides getting yourself killed by trying to save others in this war!"

"I've been a nurse for two years—"

"I knew guys that were soldiers for longer that got killed—"

"I'm not going to be on the frontline—"

"It doesn't matter! They have bombs—"

"And the Germans had tanks, what's the matter—"

"There're people who love you that want to see you make it through—"

"Just because I transfer doesn't mean I'm going to get killed—"

"But the Japs are worse than the Germans! Didn't you see what they did to Pearl Harbor—?" Malarkey argued.

"Didn't you see what the Germans did at Landsberg?" Lillian retorted dangerously, which silenced Malarkey and closed his mouth from argument. "This _is _my job, remember? To save others—to make sure people stay alive to keep fighting." Lillian shook her head at Malarkey's expression.

"I didn't take a vow just to go back on it. If there is a place that needs my help, I'm going to try and get in if I choose to do so." Lillian eyed him wearily before saying, "I'm sorry Don, but it's just—" however, seeing Malarkey's unfaltering expression, Lillian gave up her possible niceness to help the situation and shook her head. "Never mind, goodnight." Lillian stuffed her hands in her pockets and walked off, leaving Malarkey shaking his head, cursing himself. He walked back to the jeep and drove back to his building, stalking inside.

"Someone looks happy," Luz greeted.

"Fuck off Luz," Malarkey greeted in return.

"Oh, someone's _real _happy," Luz affirmed sarcastically, nodding his head to the others there.

"What's going on Malark?" Perconte asked. "Found out George here kissed Nurse Lil?" He laughed as Luz's mouth dropped, and Luz hit Perconte upside the head. Malarkey just slumped into a chair and massaged his face slowly.

"That's not true, you know I wouldn't do that," Luz said. Malarkey nodded weakly in return, taking his hands away from his face.

"She's definitely on your mind," Perconte said, more seriously now after a moment's pause.

"C'mon Malark, spill it. We'll find out eventually anyway," Luz suggested, smiling. "If not, I can always go ask the lady herself."

"I'm not sure you can," Malarkey said, taking out a cigarette box.

"Why's that?" Webster, who had just been watching, asked.

"She might be applying for a transfer," Malarkey explained simply, lighting a cigarette. The men became quiet and confused. The looks of mischief dropped from Luz's and Perconte's faces as Malarkey sat there smoking.

"A transfer?" Perconte asked.

"She's going to Japan with us?" Webster asked, slightly surprised.

"Yeah, she is. But, if she gets the transfer, she'll be heading out with the 13th instead and sooner," Malarkey explained, letting out a breath of smoke. "I just got into an argument with her about it, so if you don't mind, I'd like to forget it for now and smoke my goddamn cigarette." The men didn't speak any further on the matter and slowly regressed into what they were doing before as Malarkey continued to smoke.

* * *

><p>Lillian continued to weigh her options, finally making up her mind about an hour later. She'd go back and apologize to Don for getting angry and yelling at him the way she did, but in the morning, she would hand her transfer papers in. Although she understood his position on the matter, Lillian believed her position took priority and was more sensible. And there was something about what he said that irked her that she needed to find out or understand. He said that there were people who loved her who want to see her make it through, but what was he really saying? Was he implying her parents and family in Pennsylvania? Or … was he talking about other people? Was he talking about himself? Some of the men in the company?<p>

Lillian's mind filtered through endless scenarios and possibilities because of that vague statement. He had been acting a little odd for the past couple of weeks, all starting with V-E Day. She couldn't tell what it was, but she couldn't dwell much more on it out here. She needed to get back to the aid station. Lillian didn't need Roe worrying about her too. So, she began her jog back. As soon as she found road however, she slowed down and continued on walking. A few jeeps were heard faintly in the distance from time-to-time, but none ever came near her, and she figured they were on the other side of the woods.

"Hey Nurse Jenkins!" Lillian turned to find jeep headlights roaring towards her. She smiled as soon as she saw familiar faces.

"Hello Sergeant Grant, how are you doing?" Lillian asked, to which he shrugged.

"Good, you know, patrols." Lillian chuckled and nodded.

"I do."

"Wanna catch a ride back to base? Passenger seat's open, you know, instead of walking all the way back to base," Grant offered.

"Sure," Lillian said, climbing into the jeep.


	9. Just Not Enough Time

_Thanks to ILuvOdie for their review. :) And thank you to all of my reviewers for this story!_

_Thanks to ruthie-r89, Queen Amy, Every Other Day, Holly's Mean Reds, Liliesshadow, LittleMissAngel, Madame Minuit12, Metzina, KittyShadesTs, saighnean, Artemis1292, RadientWings, FireIsLove, nmstory, Aella Leto, MileyJ0nas989, kryka83, ILuvOdie, and reader-babe for adding my story to their alerts. :)_

_Thanks to xXFallenSakuraXx52, Madame Minuit12, KittyShadesTs, saighnean, FireIsLove, meritxu, Kelly Belle, LauRa-ReaDinG-XoX, Endipseles, and kryka83 for adding my story to their favorites. :)_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 9: Just Not Enough Time<strong>

"So, what're you doing out here this late?" one of the privates in back asked.

"I needed to walk. It helps me … sleep easier," Lillian half-lied, convincingly enough for Grant to nod. "Find anything?"

"No, but it's not like it matters if I do or don't. Either way it goes, I gotta keep making the rounds until zero two hundred before someone else takes up the job," Grant explained. Lillian's mouth gaped.

"Who's that at the next street, Sarge?" one of the privates asked. Lillian, seeing who it was, ducked, pretending to fix her boot.

"Major Winters," Grant beeped the horn at Winters who smiled and continued his drive down the other direction. As soon as she was sure they had past him, she sat back up. "Alright there Nurse Jenkins?"

"Oh, I just noticed my laces were untied, from my walking probably," Lillian lied.

"Why bother? I'm gonna drop you off at the aid station, so you can go sleep. You'd kick off your boots anyway," Grant commented, shrugging.

"Do you know what can happen if you trip up in these boots? I've seen some pretty nasty face bruises and injuries from that, believe it or not," Lillian said, pointing a finger at him, making the quiet two in the back and Grant laugh. "You laugh now, but mark my words. One of these days, that is bound to happen. You boys may be the paratroopers, but we all have slip-ups."

When Lillian looked back to Grant, she saw his face had dropped, and he slowed the jeep down. The headlights shone on a lone soldier, a private, looking quite confused.

"Wait here," Grant stopped the jeep and got out. As he neared the soldier, Lillian saw bodies lying on the ground.

"Stay here. I need to check to see if any of them are alive," Lillian told the other two soldiers as she quietly climbed out of the jeep. Lillian was concerned—how had this happened and why hadn't it been called in?

"They wouldn't give me any gas. Krauts!" the private yelled. _He was drunk. _That made things complicated for Lillian and Grant. As soon as the private turned his back though, she quickly went to a German officer and checked his pulse. Grant looked down at her, and she shook her head.

"Go back," he whispered quietly before following the drunken GI.

"I tried to explain," the private went on, seeming angrier than before, "but this fucking lime, he wouldn't listen." Lillian looked at the other two German soldiers and safely assumed that they were dead, by now. "I think he was a major."

"Hey private, we got a problem here," Grant said, seriously and calmly.

"Do you have any gas?" the GI asked, almost innocently.

"Why don't you give me your weapon?" Grant asked, but all in vain as the private turned around.

"I guess I'll use his jeep, uh, I don't think he's gonna be needing it," he replied, and that's when Lillian stood up. They had to stop him. The private walked to the jeep.

"Hold on there a second alright!" Grant called after him. Lillian neared with Grant, but that took the private by surprise.

"KRAUT!"

"No—WAIT!"

The private backed up and fired at her. Lillian fell to the ground, clutching her side, clamping her eyes shut quickly. Grant took out his weapon, but the private bumped into the jeep, and he shot again, hitting Sergeant Grant who fell to the ground.

"Shit! Sarge!" The private took off, and the other two in the jeep ran to the two. "Sergeant Grant! Nurse Jenkins!" Lillian forced herself to open her eyes and push herself back up to a sitting position.

"Nurse Jenkins—are you alright?" One soldier asked, going to her as the other went to Grant.

"I'm fine—just a graze I think," Lillian replied, shaking her head as she stood up. "Get Sergeant Grant into the jeep!" The private nodded, and the two soldiers went to carry Grant into the jeep as Lillian quickly climbed in and got her musette bag and aid kit out. The soldiers placed Grant in Lillian's arms before jumping in. "Get to the aid station—now!"

On the speedy and slightly bumpy ride back, Lillian managed to see that whatever had happened to Grant, she couldn't fix by herself. She couldn't even see the bullet, but there was blood. So, she just wrapped his head and compressed it as best as she could so that the bleeding could stop. About halfway there, Lillian began to really feel the pain in her side. She looked down and saw a circle of blood forming._ It's actually not that bad,_ she thought, sighing in relief. She knew she had to do something about it for the time being and wrapped what was left of her gauze around her stomach. She then grabbed the radio and got hold of Roe.

"What are you doing Lillian? It's—"

"Grant's been shot." Lillian said, quickly.

"What happened? How is he now?" Roe questioned, his voice changing completely.

"He was shot in the head, but his pulse is there. Weak, but he's still fighting. I can't find or see the bullet—"

"What's your ETA?" Lillian squinted her eyes to see the dimly lit checkpoint entrance.

"About three minutes."

"Okay, we'll be waiting."

"Gene, get the doctor too. I don't know if we can fix this by ourselves."

"Got it." After what seemed like an eternity, they made it up the hill and to the aid station.

"One of you go wake up Captain Speirs, and one of you go get First Sergeant Talbert. They need to know what's going on," Lillian ordered the two who went off quickly. "Eugene!" Lillian called, carrying Grant into the building. Roe and Spina came running down the hallway with a stretcher.

"What's the situation? How the hell did Grant get shot?" Roe asked her as the two hoisted Grant onto the stretcher.

"We were on patrols, and came across a drunken GI in the middle of the road. He mistook me for a German and shot at the both of us." Lillian explained as they ran down the hall to the station.

"You're hit—how bad is it?" Spina asked.

"It's not bad, grazing. It's not bleeding terribly and doesn't hurt—well not much," Lillian reluctantly admitted as they turned into the aid station.

"You should at least let me take a look," Roe said.

"Not until Grant is taken care of, Gene. I won't lose him on the account of another doctor taking care of me," Lillian argued, shaking her head.

"Lillian—"

"No, Gene. Grant first." Roe gave her a look before tossing a clean bandage at her. The three of them quickly transferred Grant to the operating table.

"What's going on?" Talbert asked, coming into the aid station. "Jesus, Grant, what happened?" Talbert quickly neared his friend very worriedly.

"Shot in the head," Spina said.

"Is he gonna be okay?" Talbert asked, nearing Lillian.

"I hope so, we're doing everything we can at the moment," Lillian told him as she unwrapped the dressing, and Roe attached a plasma bottle to Grant.

"What happened?" Speirs boomed, walking in with the doctor.

"Shot in the head, drunken GI," Lillian explained to Speirs who looked furious.

"One of our own?" Talbert asked, taken aback.

"Let me take a look at him," the doctor said, turning on a few more lights, so he could see clearly. "Jesus," he commented.

"What?" Speirs asked the doctor.

"He's not gonna make it," He replied.

"You can't operate on him?" Roe questioned, surprised, at the same time Lillian asked, equally surprised, "You can't do anything, at all? How can you be so sure?"

The doctor shook his head. "Not me. You'd need a brain surgeon, and even if you did, I don't think there's any hope," he explained, taking another drag.

"You—find the shooter. I want him alive," Speirs ordered Talbert before addressing Roe and Lillian, "Help me."

"Where're we going?" Roe asked.

"Going to find a brain surgeon!" With that, the four of them were out the door, carrying Sergeant Grant with them, leaving the doctor to look at the direction they went off in and smoke more.

* * *

><p>"He's going to be fine," the German doctor said to them, "Go back to your base."<p>

"We'll send one of our guys over to make sure he's okay and keep watch on him," Speirs said, nodding his head, giving the German doctor a glare. The doctor returned his look.

"That'll be fine, just let me do the surgery before he dies," he said before closing the door on the surgery. The three made their way back to base in practically absolute silence.

"Gene," Lillian said, quietly.

"He's gonna be fine Lillian," Roe assured her quickly, in an attempt to ease all three of their internal worries. As the jeep pulled up to aid station, Roe and Lillian climbed out of the back with Speirs coming with them.

"I didn't mean—" she started to say, but closed her eyes and exhaled, placing a hand on her side.

Roe turned and examined Lillian's state, as if for the first time that night. "Lillian, you alright? You're not lookin' good. You're pale," he said, turning her towards him by the shoulder.

"I'm probably dehydrated or tired or something like that. I haven't pulled an all-nighter in a while so that could be the reason …" she trailed off, quietly. Roe knew that just dehydration wasn't going to slow down Lillian, not like this. Lillian began to breathe heavily, and Roe looked to the hand on her side.

"Lillian, let me look at you, alright?"

"Gene, it's not that—" When he removed her hand from her side and tried to look at the injury, she collapsed to the ground and cried out. Lillian clamped her eyes shut in pain.

"Lillian! Are you alright?" Roe asked, kneeling down to her. She wrapped her arm around her stomach and winced.

"Jenkins, what's wrong?" Speirs questioned, kneeling down as well. Lillian's eyes opened and dropped to her hand now covered in vibrant red. Roe quickly helped her sit up and ripped open her jacket with some struggle on Lillian's part.

"Shit," Roe muttered. The bandage wrapped around her stomach was soaked, dripping blood.

"Damnit Jenkins, why didn't you say something earlier?" Speirs demanded, furious that she didn't tell anyone she had been wounded as well.

"I thought—it was just a graze, sir," Lillian explained, with a wince as Roe grabbed her arm and placed it over his shoulder.

"Grazing wound? You were shot?" Speirs questioned, his anger increasing rapidly.

Lillian didn't respond right away. She took a deep breath before saying, "It didn't hurt sir, and there wasn't that much blood, so I just, I just—"

"You should've let me look at you before we left!" Roe said angrily, hoisting Lillian to her feet and making her use his body for support.

"I already told you that I—" Lillian was cut short as she collapsed again. Roe and Speirs barely caught her in time. Webster, who was about to tell Speirs where to find the private from I company who had shot Grant, saw Lillian fall, and he jogged over.

"Nurse Jenkins?" The three heads turned to him as he came over.

"Webster," Speirs walked over to him as Roe tried to get Lillian standing.

"What happened—?" Webster asked.

"Shot, where is he?" Speirs questioned.

"In a house about two miles down, the rest of Easy is headed there now," Webster explained.

"Alright, stay and help Jenkins. I'm going," Speirs explained, walking away as Webster went to help support Lillian on the other side.

"Okay Webster, grab her arm and help me straighten her body. C'mon Lillian, you can do it. Can you walk to the aid station?"

"I'll try Gene," Lillian replied.

"That's alright," Roe assured Lillian, nodding before saying to Webster, "Can you press your hand on her side to stop the bleeding?" Webster couldn't believe this was happening—_both Grant and Nurse Jenkins shot? _It infuriated him more that it was one of their own that did this to them. Pressing on her wound made him realize that she was losing blood, still, and she was very weak, her body shaking with some of her steps. He didn't see Grant's condition, but if Lillian was this bad, he could only imagine what was wrong with Grant.

"Gene, I can't—"

"It's alright Lillian, it's okay." Roe said, calmly and understandingly.

"I got her, go," Webster said before Roe could say anything, and Roe took off willingly. He called to Spina and a few others as Webster took Lillian into his arms. "Just hold onto me Nurse Jenkins, I got you."

Lillian obliged and held onto his shoulders as Webster positioned himself to pick her up and carry her, wedding style. As soon as he was sure that his hand was still on her wound, he ran to the aid station. He ran as fast as he could, almost wishing that he had trained with Easy from the beginning, always running up Currahee so he would be running faster now. It seemed slow, but before either knew it, Webster carried Lillian into the aid station.

"Put her down here. Spina, get me a shit load of gauze and morphine!" Roe called to him.

Webster laid her down on the operating table and stood back in horrible awe as Roe and Spina ran around and called out to each other. The doctor came in and quickly began to file into place to see what he could do. Webster's eyes moved down to his hands that was stained with blood—Lillian's blood. Almost sick to his stomach, suddenly feeling claustrophobic in the aid station, Webster ran out and went back outside. He bent over, feeling something coming up in his throat, but he forced it back down with a hard swallow. He closed his eyes and fell down, sitting and leaning against the wall. Webster took deep and loud breaths to try and calm himself. Since he was so fixed on his emotions, he didn't really pay attention as a jeep pulled up.

"Webster, are you alright?" a concerned voice asked.

He looked up to see Major Winters walking up to him. He had seen Webster under the streetlight on his way up, heading back to base, and Winters was curious and concerned. Winters kneeled down to him and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. Webster pressed his lips together and shook his head. He looked downward, holding his head in hands again. Winters saw his bloody hands and eyed Webster as he looked back up and straight out.

"It's Nurse Jenkins," he said, and Winters' stomach clenched, fear overtaking his body. "She's been shot … I don't even know how or why, but it's bad." Webster looked back at his hands and leaned his head against the wall. Winters then ran as fast as his legs would let him, leaving Webster by himself to wait for the other men to see him like this and question what had happened.

"Roe," Winters boomed, walking in and up to Roe. "What the hell is going on?" he demanded while Roe continued to work with Spina. Winters did a double-take as he saw Lillian's closed eyes as Roe's hand was digging around in her side. He noticed how pale her skin had become, and Winters' eyes widened.

"Drunk GI fired at her and Sergeant Grant while they were on patrols—"

"Patrols? What was she doing on patrols?" Winters questioned, looking back at her and then to Roe. _How could he not have seen her when he passed them in his own Jeep?_

"Honestly sir, you're askin' the wrong person," Roe replied, shaking his head. "I gave her permission to take a walk, clear her head and make up her mind about somethin', and she comes in a few hours later with Grant, saying that he was shot in the head. Damnit, where the hell is that bullet?" Spina rushed around the aid station, trying to give Roe more light.

* * *

><p>"WHERE IS HE?" Speirs roared, ignoring Talbert's question, thoroughly pissed off that he was not in front of the bastard already. He looked to Talbert for an answer, and Talbert was only staring at the door in the corner of the room where Speirs could now hear some of the men. Speirs walked to the door and opened it. The guys parted, so Speirs to take a look at the damage they had inflicted in his absence. "Is this him?"<p>

"It's him. Replacement—I company," Bull explained. Speirs came closer to him, gun in hand, looking hell-bent but completely calm at the same time.

"Where's the weapon?" Speirs asked him. The private, trying to clear his throat of the blood and trying to breathe, shallowly gasped for breath.

"What weapon?" he asked, testily. Speirs raised his gun and pistol-whipped the private's face, causing him to spew more blood. Some of the men looked down. It was different seeing firsthand Speirs become the ruthless soldier the stories made him out to be.  
>"When you talk to an officer, you say sir," Speirs told him, seriously.<p>

The private didn't answer him, and he simply kept breathing shallowly. Speirs then aimed the gun for his head. Everyone in the room backed up, figuring Speirs was going to blow his head off. For a split second, so did Speirs, until he looked at the private. His hand began to shake. They all saw it, but no one questioned it. A soldier doesn't shoot his own men easily; even if it was Speirs who supposedly killed twenty POWs on the spot, it wasn't easy, no matter what they did to deserve it. Speirs then looked at the butt of his gun, making up his mind. Wiping the blood on his gun and hand on the private's shoulder, he turned around to Talbert.

"Have the MPs take care of this piece of shit," he said and walked out, all of the men watching him.

"Grant's dead?" Talbert asked, calling to him. There was a moment, and all of the men seemed to hold their breath.

"No, Kraut surgeon says he's gonna make it," Speirs said, turning back to them and nodding. "It's not him we have to worry about."

"Sir?" Talbert asked, thoroughly confused by the vague statement as Speirs turned to walk out. Speirs stopped and turned back around.

"Jenkins was shot," Speirs explained.

"What happened?" Luz asked, speaking around the cigarette.

"She was with Grant—shot in the side," Speirs replied. "She didn't tell us until she collapsed from blood loss because she thought it was a graze. Before I left, she was being taken to the aid station and alive." Malarkey closed his eyes and exhaled quietly in some relief.

The men wasted no time in taking the replacement to the MPs and explaining the incident. They knew Grant was going to be okay, but now it was Lillian they were worrying about. The others that hadn't gone to the MPs jumped back in their jeeps and sped off back to the aid station with Speirs in the lead. Malarkey's heart was racing, and he was quickly being consumed by guilt and rage. If he hadn't gotten into the argument with her, she might've gone back to base with him and not have been shot tonight. _Why _did he have to argue with her? His feelings for her were only twisting and breaking their friendship. He cursed graphically to himself as he hit the steering wheel in fury. Then he asked himself, why hadn't he punched that son of a bitch harder?

* * *

><p>"Hold on a little bit longer Lillian, we got you." Roe encouraged her as he took out the bullet and placed it in a container. "No, you ain't quitting on me now. I can—"<p>

"Roe, stop and look at what's happening to her," the doctor said to him, seriously. "Sure, you got the bullet out, but she's lost a lot of blood. And we don't know how much." Roe dared to look at and examine his hands and the blood on the floor. "She had been up and around for at least an hour and a half. It's impossible to replace in the short span of time." Roe looked back at Lillian's pale face, closed eyes, and shallow breathing.

"Damnit," Roe cursed quietly, closing his eyes and leaning his head down farther.

"What's going on?" Winters asked, coming back in. Spina stood up, almost afraid to speak, but Roe straightened himself and faced Winters, who looked curiously and worriedly between the two medics.

"Sir, she's lost too much blood," he explained, "I'm sorry, but time isn't on our side for this one." Winters' face dropped. Speirs came into the scene, hearing some of what Roe said as he was talking to Talbert.

"How's she doing?" Speirs asked. He looked around at the group of men, and no one responded. "What?"

"She's, uh, lost too much blood, sir," Spina explained, quietly. Speirs' eyes set on Spina as soon as he spoke, but when Spina finished Speirs looked at Roe and Winters who said nothing.

"So, we're just going to leave her on the table to—"

"No one wants to admit to anything, but it's inevitable. She's not going to make it," the doctor said, walking to the sink to wash his hands. Speirs turned around and then looked back at Lillian before leaving the room. He closed the doors of the aid station, so the few remaining were the only ones left inside.

"Captain, how's she doing?" Talbert asked, coming up to Speirs, to which Speirs only shook his head and walked away.

Talbert looked into the aid station to see that the two medics and Winters had moved closer to Lillian, but his eyes dropped to the floor. Some of the men who noticed the company first sergeant's horrified look came to the front to see what was going on. Maybe it was Grant, they thought. As the rest of Easy saw into the aid station windows on the door, a horrible awe washed over them, and they followed in suit, encompassing the area in silence. They saw the amount of blood on the floor and a nurse whom they had come to know and call their friend, lying on an operating table.

After they had their share of looking, they moved away and kept quiet. Malarkey, however, caught onto the silence and pushed through the guys to see what they were looking at, fearing the worst. When he did see it though, Malarkey couldn't believe it at first. He blinked a few times, his mouth agape, and he almost fell back. He felt like his world was being slower and slowing down rapidly, and he thought he was going to get sick. Malarkey did this to her; he let this happen. He leaned against the wall, running a hand through his sweaty hair and closed his eyes in anger, hoping to pass out and forget the raging emotions he was experiencing.

"What the hell's going on?" Nixon asked Speirs as he came in. Speirs moved the two away from the rest of the men.

"Jenkins was shot. Dying on the table as we speak," Speirs explained to which pressed Nixon to move towards the windows and look for himself.

"Shit," Nixon commented. "They can't do anything?"

"Nothing now," Speirs replied, shaking his head.

Winters had moved closer to Lillian, holding her hand in his. He immediately noticed the significant discoloration and feeling of her hand. Compared to hers, his hands seemed to have a tan and were as warm as the Pennsylvania sun in June. He knew that wasn't a good sign, and he swallowed hard, trying to keep his composure.

"Everything's going to be okay," he told her. Winters hated to say it because it wasn't true, but he said it anyway, "It'll be alright." He prayed to God that she could hear him. He prayed to God that she could do or say something, just staying alive a little longer. He slowly rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand, so she knew he was still physically there even if she couldn't hear him. He noticed her breathing was rapidly slowing down, even though it was barely there to begin with. Then her hand went limp. After that, there was no more movement from Lillian Jenkins.

Spina sighed, and Roe cursed to himself. Spina then slowly left the room and opened the doors. When the men of Easy saw the look on his face, some just sat down, partially to shock, partially to weariness. There wasn't supposed to be any more death. Europe was done; they won this battle. Why were they still dying? They were supposed to be going home, seeing their families again after years of deployment. They were not supposed to go back with a letter saying they died as heroes when really, their deaths weren't supposed to have happened at all. Spina then went back inside to start cleaning up.

Malarkey looked away from everyone. He felt frozen, paralyzed, and numb. It was similar to when he found out Muck and Penkala had been blown to bits, but this felt different. He didn't want to say it hurt more, but it did in a way. Malarkey couldn't exactly explain or place why he was feeling the way he was feeling. He did feel guilty for feeling worse about Lillian's death than Muck and Penkala's, who had been his best friends. The two guys had brought him some sanity, made him feel human, and he had fun with them. Then Bastogne came, and they were taken away from him. It was like he was smoking a cigarette—smoking a goddamn Lucky Strike. Then someone ripped it from his mouth, and the sharp, pungent intake of cold air stung his mouth and hurt. The hurt lingered a while, but Lillian had come and life seemed a little bit better. She saved him, and now she too was gone. Even worse, it was all, entirely his fault.

Winters exhaled shakily through his nose and slowly and gingerly placed Lillian's hand back on the table. He took one more look at her—pretty sure that if he stayed any longer, the façade he was wearing would break—before he walked out of the aid station. Not being sure if he could handle facing the men right now, never mind speaking, Winters walked off before any of the men could say anything to him. Nixon saw the look on his face, and he took off after his best friend.

Starting with Talbert, the men of Easy filed into the room. Roe was still sitting there at Lillian's side and Spina was standing right behind him when the men walked toward the table. Roe only looked up at them before looking away again as they moved closer. Most of the men cursed to themselves. They saw dried bloodstains covering at least half of her left side. They saw her true paleness in the lights that surrounded the table. Some puts hands to their mouths in disgust and horror while others looked away.

"Jesus Christ," Luz commented.

Speirs looked at her body again, and he exhaled angrily through his nose, letting his shoulders drop noticeably. They were all tired of death. The war was supposed to be finished in Europe. There weren't supposed to be any more casualties. Speirs slowly walked away from the men before he kicked a table on his way out. The men, still in shock and maybe they thought it would be out of respect, stayed a bit longer, gathered around the woman that lay on the operating table.

Nixon's head swiveled in all directions of any open door, and as soon as he found one, he ran down that hallway. It took him a while to find Winters. Nixon would've passed right by him if Winters had not vomited. Nixon hesitantly and quietly pushed the door open. His face dropped, and Nixon stood in horrible awe for a moment before he could actually formulate anything. There was so much Nixon could say and had to say, but he just couldn't. His heart wrenched in pain and went out to his broken friend. He had been suspecting it for a while now, and Winters' state confirmed it. Winters loved Lillian. It explained a lot. The incident at Landsberg, at the very least. He wouldn't've become that upset if one of the men had refused to tell him. He wouldn't've persisted Joe about finding out what was passed between the German man and Lillian. The stares, the different tone of voice, the choice of words, and the actions he took because of, around, and to her along; for Christ's sake, he danced with her. It made sense. Nixon finally decided to make his presence known.

"Dick."

Richard Winters leaned over a sink, practically his whole body shaking. Even in his somewhat baggy pants, Nixon could see Winters' knees wobbling, threatening to collapse from under him. Winters held on the rim of the sink, his knuckles white. He was breathing heavily and loudly, his mouth gaping. Sweat and salty tears were dripping down his gauntly face. His blue irises were wide, and red lines of stress ran through the white of his eyes. For once, in this whole war, Nixon saw Winters look like he was ready to have a breakdown. Winters closed his eyes, tilting his head back up to make it straight, but he shook his head and brought it back down, closer to the sink.

"I can't do it Nix."

"Can't do what Dick? You don't have to go any—" Nixon began to assure, shaking his head.

"No, Lew … I can't stand." Winters explained, quietly.

Nixon stood there, befuddled for a moment before striding over to his friend and caught him in the nick of time. Winters' body went limp as Nixon took the fall into the wall. The two men slid down the wall to sit on the floor. It wasn't until Nixon had his arms around his friend that he realized how badly Winters was shaking. This was scaring him.

Winters was supposed to be the man who always kept his composure. Winters was the man who one of the few that shaved on a regular basis and made sure that he did. He was the man that would be the ears that would listen to whatever you had to say. He was the one who held his own in difficult situations, no matter who or what was involved and at stake. Nixon wasn't sure of what to do or what to say. So, he thought of only one thing.

"It's alright," Nixon said, nodding his head. "It'll be … alright." Winters clamped his eyes shut and held his face in hands. He began to sob. Nixon moved himself and his arms, so that he could hug and comfort his friend in a more comfortable position. Because he had a feeling they weren't going anywhere anytime soon.

* * *

><p>The following morning was quiet and solemn. After the news spread to the rest of Easy, and the other companies heard of it, Clara Johnson soon found out as well. While mourning her friend privately, she decided that the best way to honor Lillian was to tell Winters about Lillian's feelings, and in order to do that, Clara needed to give him something as well. Something she knew that Lillian had kept with her secretly throughout this entire war, to prove that what Clara was saying was in fact true. As soon as she found him in Easy's CP, she walked up to him determinedly.<p>

"Lieutenant Johnson, something I can do for you?" Winters asked, eyeing her serious expression and the box she was holding in her hand.

"Sir, if I may speak freely," Clara began, which Winters nodded to let her continue. She handed in a wooden box. "I need to tell you that Lillian would've wanted you to have this. And sir, if you don't read or look at any of its contents, you are raising an army against you." This was when Clara's voice became louder, more passionate, and angrier by the second, taking Winters off-guard,

"Because sir, Lillian had the respect and honor _not _to tell you this because we're still in a war, but as her friend, I have taken on the duty to tell you what she couldn't tell you."

"Lieutenant," Winters gritted through his teeth, making her check herself, "what are you getting at?"

"Major Winters, Lillian loved you with every fiber of her being and with every ounce of her blood," Clara said, deadly and loud enough for those not already eavesdropping in on the conversation to hear.

The men turned to Winters to see his reaction, and Malarkey's head slowly lifted from its bowed state. Those words hit both men, so hard and painfully that it was impossible for them to hide their true emotions. Winters' hands began to shake and tighten around the box, and his eyes were welling with tears before he walked to his office without a word. Malarkey slowly rose from his chair and went down a hallway and into a different room, shutting the door quietly behind him. Then whatever was in that room was tossed, overturned or thrown with a rage so furious that it could've been heard a mile away, and once Malarkey had finished his rage, tears came forth like a floodgate. Winters sat in his room looking at the letters, pictures, and knick-knacks that were kept in this box, but one particular picture struck him. It was of the last time they were in Pennsylvania together, at the charity banquet. He slowly searched through his inside pocket and grabbed the matching photo.

* * *

><p>"Jesus, you think we were watching a play," George Luz commented, taking a drag after both men and the nurse in Dog company had disappeared.<p>

"Are you kidding me George? A fucking play?" Frank Perconte asked angrily, turning to him. "Malark's going down the goddamn drain, and Major Winters just got told that a dead woman loved him. What the hell is wrong with you?" Luz gave a strange look.

"What the hell's wrong with you?" Luz asked, surprised by his behavior.

"Nurse Lil's dead, and this is how you're acting?"

"Why are you so wound up about it Frank? I mean, it's bad I know, but still—" Luz and Perconte both stood up from their seats.

"She was a friend of mine George, and yours last I recall," Perconte told him, which Luz gave him a look for. "Why aren't you wound up about it?" And with that, Perconte left, quickly followed by Luz, who looked pissed off that he said what he said out loud, even though it was meant to brighten the dark mood.

Joe Liebgott leaned back in his seat more and massaged his face. He didn't get much sleep due to Webster getting up every other hour. Why, Liebgott didn't honestly have a clue. All he could remember is that water was running, from the sink in the bathroom. He looked to see what Webster was doing; Liebgott sat up straighter.

"Web?" David Webster was staring, wide-eyed at his shaking hands. "Hey, Web." He shook Webster to look up at him. "What's wrong with you? You're hands are clean,"

"No, they're not." Webster shook his head before leaning down, hiding his face in hands. "They're not."

"Why the hell not? You washed them enough last night—"

"Joe,"

"Did you have fun in there or something?"

"Joe,"

"Waking me up every other fucking hour,"

"Joe I thought I had blood on my hands!" Webster yelled angrily at him. That took Liebgott by surprise. Webster hesitated a moment before looking down at his hands again.

"Do you wanna know where I was when you guys were beating that goddamn piece of shit of a replacement? Do you?" Webster stared straight into Liebgott's eyes, "I carried her to the aid station." Liebgott's expression faltered.

"She was bleeding, so much, and I carried, I ran her to the fucking aid station. You saw how much blood there was," Webster stood up and glared at Liebgott. "Do you know what it's like to have a dying friend's blood on your hands?" Webster then stormed out of the room, and Liebgott, with an angry sigh, followed him.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Doc?" Eugene Roe turned around, really not wanting to deal with anyone today. However, his eyes widened in horror at Don Malarkey's bleeding hand. Malarkey looked rather complacent or calm about his bleeding hand, which worried Roe more.<p>

"Jesus Christ, what the hell—sit down—Spina, get me some water!" Roe called to Spina as he ushered Malarkey to one of the tables and made him sit on it. He carefully took Malarkey's hand, and Malarkey winced as Roe looked at it. Spina came over with a bowl of water, and Roe placed Malarkey's hand in, making Malarkey curse and wince. After a few times in and out of the water, the bleeding had practically stopped, and the clear water had now turned a bright red. Roe then saw the small diagonal cuts along his knuckles and on the back of his palm.

"Malarkey, what the hell did you do to yourself?" Roe asked, putting gel on Malarkey's hand.

"… Punched a mirror, along with a lot of furniture," he replied, wincing as Roe spread the gel.

"Why? You tryin' to kill yourself or somethin'?" Roe asked, unraveling gauze.

"I don't know," Malarkey answered as he watched Roe wrap his hand up.

"That's one hell of an answer," Roe muttered, shaking his head.

"I just feel like … I don't know. Someone up there hates me," Malarkey pointed upward, which Roe only glanced at him for before Malarkey explained further, "They want to torment me by killing off everyone that I fucking care about. Muck, Penkala, now … Lillian, except I probably deserve it. Cause I did kill her,"

"You shot her, did you?" Roe asked angrily, not liking that he brought up Lillian.

"No, I … lov-liked her, and because of my goddamn feelings, I argued with her about the damn transfer, and she wandered off—"

"Is this why you're coming in like this? You're angry at yourself because_ you _think _you _killed her?" Roe asked, angrily.

"No, my hand is fucked up because I tore a room apart because Lillian … loved Winters. And they might've had a wonderful, fucking relationship if I hadn't argued with her—"

"Are you serious? Just because you argued with her, doesn't mean anything!" Roe yelled at him. Spina looked back-and-forth between them concernedly, and he decided to intervene.

"Roe, calm down,"

"Stay outta this Spina! You didn't kill her Malarkey. Stop thinking you did," Roe told him furiously, both Malarkey and Roe glaring at one another. "If anyone 'killed' her besides the goddamn replacement, it was me."

"Roe!"

"I knew she had the wound when she came in with Grant, and I didn't examine her," Roe explained, shaking his head. His voice quieted, and Roe hesitated on continuing. Malarkey's expression faltered slightly as Spina came closer. "I should've examined her … then, I got angry with her because she didn't know how bad her wound was. I got angry with her, and …" Roe gulped, closing his eyes for a moment, "I shouldn't've. How could she have known if she hadn't been worrying about herself to begin with?" Roe shook his head with an angry sigh, "How could she have known if she was being a goddamned nurse?"

**The End**


End file.
